TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
KING ALFONSO AS HE LOOKED IN 1<)JJ1, SHORTLY BRI<'ORK
THE REVOLUTION.
TWILIGHT OF
ROYALTY
By
ALEXANDER
GRAND DUKE OF RUSSIA
Ray Long & Richard R. Smith, Inc.
New York 1932
, November, 1932., by
Cj.Aisrr> DXJKJE
Rights
TT-nitecL States of X mcrtc**. By
jr. j. XJTTUB: c rvnss coaa^pAisnr, X^TKTW ITOKJK:
To EDWIN BALMER
to whose stern advice and critical judgment
I owe so much in this new life of mine
FOREWORD
The more I see of Democracy, the less I am in-
clined to believe that its contribution to human
progress contains anything startlingly new or makes
the return of absolutism impossible. There is very
little indeed in the practice of the modern republi-
can rulers which could be considered an improve-
ment on the system created by the Czars, the Kaisers
and the Caesars of the Holy Roman Empire. Some-
times, when I watch a Monsieur Chiappe disperse
a parade of Parisian workers or a Mr. Mulrooney
handle the May Day crowds in Union Square, I
even begin to fear for the morals of the exiled
royalty, lest on their return to the thrones they be
tempted to try the methods of upholding "personal
liberties" used in the United States and France.
I dread to think of what the great American Press
would have said, what meetings of protest and in-
dignation would have been staged throughout the
world, had the much maligned Cossacks dared to
behave in the manner of New York's Finest. Not
that I envy Democracy the efficiency of its watch-
[vii]
FOREWORD
dogs. God forbid. In the words of Georges Clemen-
ceau I would merely like to ask Monsieur Chiappe:
"Brother Chiappe, what didst thou to Liberty?"
I must likewise admit that it is rather puzzling
for me to realize that, having seen at the age of six
the jubilant procession of Garibaldi in Naples, I am
witnessing today, sixty years later, the universal,
overwhelming triumph of what my German pro-
fessors used to call the Polizeistaat. Something must
have no doubt happened to the Onward March of
the Masses that sent them rolling all the way back
with a speed that ominously warns of the proba-
bility of many an imperial comeback. Always mind-
ful of that roundtrip itinerary which reads Bour-
bons-Robespierre-Napoleon-Bourbons, I consider
that now is as good a time as any to retrace the lives
and the careers of the contemporary Royalty-on-
Leave, The percentage of resurrection of those
buried by the editorial writers is amazingly high.
ALEXANDER
Grand Duke of Russia
Autumn
[viii]
THE TABLE OF CONTENTS
Foreword vii
Part One: "ARE ROYALTY PEOPLE?" i
Part Two: "THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINE-
BLEAU" 17
Part Three: "THE TECHNIQUE OF THE COME-
BACK" 153
Part Four: "THE ART OF RIDING THE STORM" 169
THE LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
KING ALFONSO OF SPAIN Frontispiece
FACING PAGE
THE COAT OF ARMS OF THE KING OF SPAIN 1
QUEEN VICTORIA OF SPAIN 8
KING ALFONSO AND HIS CHILDREN l6
THE GENERAL VIEW OF THE PALACE OF FON-
TAINEBLEAU 24
LA COURT DES ADIEUX IN FONTAINEBLEAU 32
THE LAKE OF FONTAINEBLEAU 40
THE HOTEL SAVOY IN FONTAINEBLEAU 48
ANOTHER VIEW OF THE HOTEL SAVOY 56
KING ALFONSO AT THE AGE OF SIXTEEN 64
KING ALFONSO AND QUEEN VICTORIA IN 1905 72
KING ALFONSO KNEELING IN THE CATHEDRAL OF
NOTRE DAME IN PARIS 72
"THE RISKS OF THE ROYAL TRADE" 80
KING ALFONSO AND PRESIDENT LOUBET IN 1905 88
THE ROYAL HUNT 88
[xi]
THE LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PACING PAGE
KING ALFONSO HUNTING AT RAMBOUILLET 96
THE CORONATION 96
KING ALFONSO ON A YACHTING CRUISE IN 1906 104
KING ALFONSO AND QUEEN VICTORIA ON THE DAY
OF THEIR CORONATION 1 13
KING ALFONSO AND GENERAL PRIMO DE RIVERA 122
KING ALFONSO WINNING A TENNIS CHAMPIONSHIP 1 32
KING ALFONSO PLAYING POLO 144
GRAND DUKE CYRIL OF RUSSIA Ifjg
THE CROWN PRINCE OF GERMANY 164
EX-EMPRESS ZITA OF AUSTRIA 1 82
KING GEORGE V 2OO
THE HAPPY PRINCE 2 1 4
[xii]
THE COAT-OF-ARMS OF
THE KING OF SPAIN.
PART ONE:
'ARE ROYALTY PEOPLE?'
PART ONE:
'ARE ROYALTY PEOPLE?"
A a profession, royalty has always lacked
professional education. Not unless an Heir
Apparent came to the throne quite late
in life as happened in the case of both King
Edward VII and King George V did he know any-
thing at all about the business of ruling. Brought up
and educated by a coterie of pious bishops, iron-
headed generals and grandiloquent professors, an
average Crown Prince was obliged to discover for
himself the all-important fact that a sovereign has no
right to be human or honest. The ultimate success
or failure of his reign depended on the degree of his
niceness. The over-nice ones were invariably thrown
down and, sometimes, shot; the moderately nice ones
learned their lesson and stuck. And while the text-
book on the Art of Pleasing the Masses is yet to be
written, it is certain that no "sweet" man ever made
[3 ]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
a successful Emperor. This is as it should be. A ruler,
if he wants to be a ruler not in name only, must be
ruthless. Not an ideal husband, not a loving father,
not a fancier of flowers, not a modern edition of
Marcus Aurelius, not a noble exponent of the
principles of enlightened absolutism, but a cunning
tactician capable of outsmarting the biggest cheats
among his ministers and not ashamed to draw on the
vast deposits of hatred and jingoism when no other
course is open for quick and decisive action. But,
above all, a ruler must eschew his "hidden talents."
Many a kingdom collapsed just because its crowned
head was put to sleep by the soothing melody of his
"violon d'Ingres." I have the former Kaiser in mind.
Now that he hibernates at Doom and does his frown-
ing in the rotogravure sections of the Sunday papers,
it has become quite fashionable to question his ad-
ministrative abilities and consider him a chump.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
The Kaiser would still be reviewing his adoring
troops in Potsdam had it not been for his sincerity
and the wealth of his hidden talents. He was a great
orator, a super-architect, a warrior extraordinary,
but his speeches left Germany without a friend in
the world, his artistic aspirations were responsible
for the monstrosity of the Siegesallee, and his experi-
[4]
'ARE ROYALTY PEOPLE?"
ments in strategy, backed by those of his trusted
friend von Kluck, immortalized "Papa" Joffre and
saved Paris in the fall of the year 1914.
Whether he was "nice" or not, depends on one's
conception of niceness, but human he was, alto-
gether too human. He raved like an unrecognized
genius. He threw scenes like an aging primadonna.
He paraded his various idiosyncrasies as only an
exhibitionist poet would. His was the charm of utter
eccentricity, and when one saw him at seven o'clock
of a spring morning, jumping out of his shining vic-
toria in front of the Hotel Adlon and testing the
cleanliness of the sidewalk with a white-gloved
finger, one felt genuinely touched and wished this
overgrown boy would definitely choose between the
job of Sanitary Inspector of Berlin and that of Em-
peror of Germany. Like all persons of overwhelming
sincerity, he indulged in emotional luxuries which
no sovereign can afford. His animosity against Eng-
land, his .perennial desire to grab the British by the
throat were fed not by his envy of the power of their
Overseas Empire but by a purely personal hatred for
his London Uncle. It is terrifying to think that
the World War could have been postponed for at
least another generation and millions of lives saved
had the Kaiser been willing in his dealings with
[5]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
Great Britain to overlook his memories of King
Edward VII!
He hated all that pertained to Uncle Bertie.
His jovial face ("what is he grinning about?")
His massive shaking shoulders ("Just like an old
woman . . .") . His mistress and his friend Sir
Thomas Lipton ("A King, a paramour and a grocer!
What a trio!"). His popularity with the Parisians
("Shaking hands with those republican swine!")
His fondness for beautiful women ("Somebody
ought to tell him he is a grandfather") .... He
hated, passionately and unreservedly, even the side-
crease of his uncle's trousers ("It would be still more
original if he walked around in drawers") . Anyone
else of lesser sincerity placed in the Kaiser's position
would have managed to draw a line between the two
hundred pounds of King Edward and the four hun-
dred and fifty million subjects of the British Empire,
but drawing lines was not the gift of the Orator of
Potsdam.
Nothing is more human than hatred, and the
Kaiser persisted in his determination to remain
human until the very end. His quarrel with King
Edward, his dismissal of Bismarck and his declara-
tion of the submarine war these are the three fatal
mistakes of his reign and these are precisely the
[6]
'ARE ROYALTY PEOPLE?"
three things in his life he enjoyed most. A ward-
politician would have known better, but then roy-
alty are people.
NEXT to Hatred, Love is responsible for the
heaviest casualties among royalty. Love for their
wives much more than love for their mistresses. The
latter demanded money and jewelry, the former
helped to destroy the thrones*
A Pompadour bled her royal lover white, but a
Marie-Antoinette led her husband to the scaffold. A
Gaby Deslys did her intriguing against courtiers and
playwrights, but an Empress Eugenie went after
Emperors and Kings. No major country has ever
gone bankrupt because of its philandering sovereign,
but the most appalling debacle of the twentieth cen-
tury was brought about by the love and devotion of
an Emperor for his consort. The Russia of 1894-
1917 could have easily footed the bill of an extrava-
gant imperial paramour, but it happened that the
last Czar was an ideal husband. . . .
Flippant as the assertion may sound, it is true that
all really great sovereigns of Europe merely tolerated
their wives. They knew they had to marry, they
[ 7 ]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
realized they had to assure the continuation of their
dynasty, but they never discussed affairs of state with
the mothers of their children nor permitted their
consorts to interfere with their decisions. Peter the
Great imprisoned his first wife in a convent just
because she attempted to organize her own "party,"
and Catherine the Great disclosed her extreme cun-
ning in the way she dismissed a particular lover the
moment he tried to tell her how she should deal
with this or that problem of importance.
I am not talking from hearsay. I have spent many
an hour in the archives of our family reading the
secret diaries of both Peter the Great and Catherine
the Great, and at the luncheon-table of my late
father-in-law Emperor Alexander III I had many an
occasion to see for myself how even the shrewdest of
rulers fell a victim to the influence exercised by his
loving and beloved wife. A Danish Princess, Empress
Marie, could never forgive Wilhelm I and Bismarck
the humiliation caused her native country in the
war of 1866.
"Germany must be punished! Russia must make
an alliance with France! . . ." Coming from that
diminutive woman of self-effacing sweetness, this
sounded like a prayer. Her husband blinked and
sighed. It would have been a real waste of time to
[8]
THE QUEEN OF SPAIN AS SHE LOOKED IN IQ^l, SHORTLY
BEFORE THE REVOLUTION.
"ARE ROYALTY PEOPLE?"
try to explain to the Empress that her subjects liked
the Germans and distrusted the French and that not
one in a million o Russian peasants cared a rap
about Denmark or the injustice suffered by that
country in 1866.
"Germany must be punished." She never stopped
repeating it. She said it at the rate of three times
a week, for twenty-two consecutive years. She was
boring her husband from within, using every con-
ceivable means to make him see her "point" and
understand that his German cousin was a traitor and
a brute. I confess that I admired her courage. The
Emperor stood six feet two in his stockinged feet and
was never known for the mildness of his temper.
Had anyone else dared to tell him what to do, he
would have probably committed manslaughter.
Each time I heard my mother-in-law broach that
fatal German subject, I was prepared to witness a
formidable scene. On a few occasions the Emperor
did get up from the table; once he even seized a
huge silver fork and bent it into a knot, but that
was all. Unfortunately for him, for Russia and for
the world, he was deeply in love with his wife, and
his desire to make her happy must have obscured his
view and interfered with the workings of his mind. I
know of no other reason why a man as f arsighted and
[ 9]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
as practical as my father-in-law should have sanc-
tioned our treaty of alliance with France, a senti-
mental nonsense in the i88o's, a bloody nightmare
in 1914.
Not much need be said about the fatal part played
by another Russian Empress, the last Czarina, in
the debacle of 1917. It is a simple matter of record
that in the crucial days of his life, facing the cer-
tainty of a revolution in the rear of his armies and
the danger of a defeat at the front, Czar Nicholas II
chose to ignore the warnings of his advisers and
followed the hysterical promptings of his wife until
the very end. In my book Once a Grand Duke I have
given a detailed description of that unfortunate
manage. Hers was a case for a Siegmund Freud, and
while no one has the right to throw stones at a
woman who had lost her mind because of the illness
of her son, historians will deal harshly with my
late brother-in-law. They will never forgive him for
the underlying reasons of his abdication, for the de-
sire to spend one's life "just with wife and children"
is middle-class at best, a virtue laudable in a grocer
but utterly ridiculous in a ruler. What will there be
left of the whole idea of monarchism if the fulfil-
ment of a sovereign's oath to uphold the Throne of
[10]
'ARE ROYALTY PEOPLE?'
his ancestors is made contingent on his love for wife
and children?
3
THEN there is that inclination to overestimate the
intelligence o the masses a fatal trait that makes all
royalty so hopelessly ineffective in their dealings
with the brewing revolutions. So often does a mon-
arch refer in his public pronouncements to the
"clear heads/' the "golden hearts" and the general
"greatness" of his people that, unless he is the pos-
sessor of the cynical mind of a Henri de Navarre, he
usually falls a victim to his own phraseology.
"Let the Nation judge my actions," he exclaims at
the moment of a dangerous crisis, and incredible as
it may seem, he actually believes that the Nation is
capable of judging actions and reaching sensible de-
cisions. Poor chap! What does he know about the
mentality of that cowardly monster which he calls
the Nation? His teachers, sycophants and bunk-
purveyors, have filled his mind with the giddy tales
of his country's history, and, taking them at their
word, he imagines that the bearded peasants who
were slaughtered during the war with Napoleon
really did like to die for the "noble cause" of liber-
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
ating Europe. It never dawns upon him that the very
word "Europe" was unknown to the vast majority o
the hard-bitten heroes of 1812 and that they hated/
their own generals much more than they did the
French.
No nation knows enough to admire statesmanship
no nation can resist a good show. Individuals may
vary in their characteristics, but the masses are every-
where the same lazy, treacherous, fantastically cruel
masses. Be it in Russia or in the United States, in
England or in Abyssinia, the masses care for nothing
except their three meals a day. A dictator often suc-
ceeds where a sovereign fails not because his pro-
gram is better or his methods more efficient but
because, a product of the masses, he knows their
deep-rooted ignorance and his stock of "tricks of the
trade" is built on realities, not on illusions. It is
quite instructive to note that in organizing their
present Ideal State the bolsheviks have entrusted its
protection to the hands of the former members of
the Imperial Secret Police. They recognized the
dependable qualities of that venerable apparatus,
provided it were given full freedom of action, un-
hindered by the liberal press and spared the trouble
of bothering with the attorneys-for-the-defense.
"I am leaving these people just as poor as I found
'ARE ROYALTY PEOPLE?"
them, and yet they cheer me. . . ." This valedictory
of Napoleon has lost none of its piquancy in the
1930*8. It travels a long way toward explaining the
durability of the Stalins and the Mussolinis and it
could be profitably used by the remaining royalty of
tiie world. A little more showmanship, a little more
ruthlessness and a little less admiration for the
underlying common sense of the masses!" The
recipe is simple, perhaps too simple to suit the Ham-
letian minds of royalty. They like to "wonder" all
of them. Even the cleverest of them, the late Em-
peror Alexander III of Russia, did his share of pain-
ful wondering.
"I often wonder," he said to me as we were travel-
ing aboard his train in the South of Russia shortly
before his death, "to what extent the average
Russian peasant realizes the responsibilities of his
sovereign?"
I wondered too and suggested that my father-in-
law put this timely question to one of his supposedly
"adoring" subjects. He laughed. The idea appealed
to him. At the next station while acknowledging the
vociferous hurrahs of the crowd he motioned to a
husky fellow in the front row and told him to come
close to the platform where we stood.
[133
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
"Would you like to be the Czar?" he asked him in
all seriousness.
The peasant gasped and looked bewildered.
"Answer 'yes* or 'no/ " ordered the Czar.
"Y-y-yes. . * , Your Majesty/' came in stuttering
tones.
"Now then/' said the Czar, "what would you do
first of all if you were put in my place?"
The answer was not slow in coming.
"I would grab five hundred rubles and beat it/'
said the peasant. The crowd roared but the Czar
motioned for silence,
"Is that all?" he asked trying to keep a straight
face. "Don't you know that there's much more than
five hundred rubles in the job?"
"That may be so/' said the peasant ominously,
casting a look in the direction of the crowd, "but I
know what these mugs can do to a Czar. . . . I'd
rather boss a pack of hungry wolves."
SAY the traffickers in platitudes: "A modern sov-
ereign must be thoroughly democratic. It appeals to
the people. Look at the Prince of Wales."
I doubt the soundness of this advice and I have
'ARE ROYALTY PEOPLE?'
looked at the Prince of Wales, more than once in my
life. I have seen the three of them: the present one,
his father and his grandfather. And I still maintain
that no sovereign, for that matter no real gentleman,
could or ever did become "democratic" in the sense
that a candidate for political office is. A transforma-
tion of this kind is not to be achieved by anyone
brought up in an environment of a certain respecta-
bility of thought and honesty of feeling. Cheapness
of mental reactions and vulgarity of spirit cannot be
imitated. Hackneyed phrases and five-and-ten slo-
gans come to one either naturally or not at all. That
most exclusive club in the world the guild of the
former monarchs of Europe counts among its mem-
bers several who attempted to put on a "democratic"
make-up while still in their prime. The results were
disastrous, the remorse profound. Looking at the list
of them, I come across the name of King Alfonso of
Spain, a pioneer of the democratization of royalty,
although a fine gentleman with a sharp sense of
humor. His life, as he relates it, sounds like one long
sustained object lesson. His efforts were honest, his
sincerity beyond doubt, and yet he failed. The
word "yet" is used by me in a purely ironical
sense; "therefore" would have been much more
appropriate.
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
I am presenting the story of King Alfonso's reign
in the pages that follow, not in the manner of an
omniscient historian but as a friendly interviewer
would. My bias is obvious but the facts speak for
themselves.
PART TWO:
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
PART TWO:
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
THE RECORD OF A MAGNIFICENT FAILURE
I WAS to have a luncheon engagement with my
own past. I was going to be the guest of His
Catholic Majesty King Alfonso XIII of Spain,
who had just started upon the road so familiar to us,
the few survivors of the House of Romanoff. On my
way from Paris to Fontainebleau, while driving
through the majestic forest, unaffected by centuries
of human bondage, I marveled at the pranks of fate
and bowed to its superb irony.
Fontainebleau! To think that of all places on
earth I was to meet the King in that beautiful spot
of France where, on April nth, 1814, Napoleon was
forced to abdicate by Emperor Alexander I in favor
of King Louis XVIII. I felt as though I were
perusing the pages of an old-fashioned" play: "The
curtain falls to denote the passing of one hundred
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
and seventeen years; when it goes up again, Emperor
Alexanders grandnephew, Grand Duke Alexander
of Russia, is seen alighting at the Hotel Savoy, which
hoitses King Louis 3 collateral descendant. King
Alfonso XIII of Spain."
A glance at the grounds the Savoy is situated in
the midst of a centennial park and I enter the
lobby, a typical French "foyer," with the room-clerk
reading his morning paper, and the gold-braided
porter busily engaged in preparing the account of
the "incidental expenses."
Another ghost of the past! The gentleman who
awaits me in the lobby happens to be the Duke de
Miranda, a lifelong friend of King Alfonso, who
served his diplomatic apprenticeship forty years ago
in the Spanish Embassy at St. Petersburg.
I am delighted to see this charming man and to
be able to learn from him that the Marquis de
Torres de Mendoza, another old friend of the King,
is likewise staying in Fontainebleau. Not every sov-
ereign has carried that much of his former life into
exile.
We chat of this and that; mostly of the past. The
sunsets were beautiful in the early iSgo's in St.
Petersburg and so were the rubies and the emeralds
in the show windows along the Nevsky Prospect.
[20]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
He sighs and so do I. He fears we shall never see St.
Petersburg again. "Let us hope not," I reply. He is
puzzled but then he is too young an exile to under-
stand a veteran like myself.
We go upstairs to the rooms of Her Majesty. I
search my mind for appropriate words to express
what would not sound like too idiotic cheerfulness,
but there are none to be found, so I bow in silence.
She smiles, kindly but rather faintly. The tragic
events she has lived through during the past months
have added a certain spiritual halo to her striking
blonde handsomeness. Otherwise she is just as
friendly and refreshing in the simplicity of her
manner as in the old London days, when she was
still the very youthful Princess Ena of Battenberg.
I look at her and think: "The eternal British. . . .
Tenacity and loyalty. . . . That's what helps her
keep her head up. ... It takes an English woman
to make a proud Queen.
WE sit down and talk. In a way we are related to
each other, one of her cousins having married my
niece, known today as Lady Milford-Haven. Some-
thing much stronger, however, than that incidental
relationship is responsible for the cordiality of our
[21]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
conversation. Although she does not say it, I can
read in her clear eyes the inevitable question:
"You who have had fourteen years of it, tell me
what is going to happen to us."
Her salon is a small room. "A single room for
one," in the parlance of the porter of the Hotel
Savoy. Here and there I notice a few attractive bits
and pieces of furniture and bric-a-brac, things of
exquisite taste. "They are mine," she says with a
half-smile, "all that is left to me."
All that is left to her! These words sound famil-
iar. I must have heard them not less than a thousand
times from my own wife and from my mother-in-
law, the late Dowager-Empress Marie of Russia.
"You see," she explains, "we were naturally
obliged to leave most of our belongings in Madrid;
but the Republican Government is going to ship
everything over to us."
"I DOUBT it!" I exclaim almost automatically.
Next moment I regret having made this cynical
remark, and wish I were not so much of an expert
on all matters revolutionary.
She talks in a strained voice. Two small pink spots
appear on her cheeks. The emotion is breaking up
her sentences.
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
"I have read and heard many heartbreaking
stories about the Russian Revolution, but really, I
can not believe it could have been any worse in St.
Petersburg. It came so suddenly, so unexpectedly. It
seems I returned from London only a day before,
not wishing to be absent from Madrid during the
political crisis. And the crowds at the station in
Madrid that met my train! Oh, Alexander, if you
could only have seen those people! Cheering, de-
lighted, throwing flowers at me! I thought I was the
most popular human being in Spain! And then!
... It is unbelievable. . . . How could a nation
change its sympathies so abruptly?"
At this moment the door of her salon opens. His
Majesty the King! A bit thinner, and a gay smile on
his lips, perhaps too gay a smile.
A firm handshake, the handshake of a sportsman.
And then, with his expressive eyes shining bril-
liantly and a hearty outburst of laughter:
"Eh bien f Alexandre, nous voila dans la meme
situation!"
I have to join in his laughter. What else can I do?
He is not one of those who believe in sour faces
as a cure for misfortune. His remark, taken in itself,
may not have been so excessively humorous; but the
way he said it each muscle in his face alive, and his
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
trim athletic figure shaking made it contagiously
funny.
He tells me that I am "just the man" he has
wanted to see for the past three months,
"We are about to enter the preparatory class of
that very severe school which is obligatory for all
exiles of our caliber, and we are looking for a good
experienced tutor. Will you help us?"
We are conversing in French. The King in
addressing me uses the singular of the second per-
son, which corresponds to the English thou, and
which is customary among the members of the royal
families of Europe who consider themselves rela-
tives. This familiarity puts me at ease. My initial
nervousness at seeing him in an atmosphere so
different from that of our former meetings gradu-
ally disappears. We chat, not as a king with a grand
duke, but as two men who have both had their fill
of the bitter bread of exile.
"Your surroundings are restful and pleasing/' I
observe with a gesture toward Fontainebleau, which
is lying around this provincial hotel in all its green-
and-marble glory.
THE King gpes to the window and remains silent
for a while.
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THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
"Very beautiful, indeed/' he admits with a sigh,
"beautiful but sad, extremely sad. Don't you see,
Alexander, there are moments in one's life when it
becomes difficult to breathe an air which is over-
charged with history? You commence to wish the
great ghosts of the past would recede and leave you
alone! Whenever I walk past that gorgeous palace,
I can not help thinking of Napoleon, his last morn-
ing as Emperor, his farewell speech to the Old
Guard, his pathetic desire to enthrone his beloved
son, his eaglet, his poor Roi de Rome! And then I
see the others. Your granduncle resplendent in his
victory. The scheming Metternich. The merciless
Castlereagh. They are all gone, and yet something
remains in these shaded avenues, even in the air of
Fontainebleau itself, that talks to me constantly of
their joys and sorrows. Mostly of sorrows. I do not
know much of the average longevity of the carp,
but I am told that there are several of them in the
lake of Fontainebleau that remember the days of
Louis XV and are still displaying golden rings in
their mouths which were placed there nearly one
hundred and seventy years ago. What must it be
like to swim in a lake for all that length of time!"
While he talks, I watch the heavy furrows lining
his forehead. He must be in his middle forties. His
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
figure is quite youthful, which is not surprising con-
sidering his passion for polo, golf, tennis and all
other kinds of outdoor recreations. But his eyes-
the same eyes that participate so whole-heartedly
in his laughter tell the story of his thirty years on
the throne of Spain. Next to Nicholas II, he holds
the record among the world's sovereigns for having
escaped the greatest number of revolutionary
attempts on his life. The late Russian Czar always
sympathized with His Catholic Majesty of Spain and
admired his pluck and courage. How often did I
hear him remark:
"I wish I could meet the King of Spain. I think
we have many things in common."
Alas! Such a meeting would have given too much
worry to the secret police of the two countries, both
sovereigns being the favorite targets for the inter-
national terrorists, and it never took place. They
had to be satisfied to remain "long distance friends,"
exchanging written and verbal greetings with the
aid of their ambassadors. When the Russian Empire
was no more, the Czar's relatives found a great deal
of comfort in the encouragement and moral support
given to them by the King of Spain. Nor could I
forget the beautiful way in which he treated the
destitute Empress Zita of Austria. He was the first
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
one to come forward with his offer to house her
and to educate her large family of fatherless chil-
dren. He refused to be frightened by the frowns of
the Allied diplomats, who attempted to square their
score with the Hapsburgs by persecuting a helpless
woman and her innocent babies.
HE was always a man a real, hundred-per-cent
man. They call him "the Gentleman King"
throughout Europe and America, but I hate that
greatly abused word gentleman. It tends to say too
much, and it means nothing. Very often it reminds
me of that venomous American journalist who
claimed that a "gentleman" signifies an individual
who "bathes every day and has never been in jail."
If King Alfonso XIII of Spain needs any sobriquet
at all, he should be known as the Manly Sovereign
of Europe.
We go downstairs and pass through a large hall.
"Alexander, have you ever taken your meals in a
billiard-room?" asks the King quite seriously.
In a billiard-room? Not that I could recall it,
various as my experiences are. While visiting the
Fiji Islands, I dug my fingers into a bowl placed
in the center of a suspicious-looking hearth that was
strangely reminiscent of cannibalistic housekeeping;
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
but with all of it, I had never eaten my stew, as yet,
with the aid o a billiard-cue.
"Well, we won't go so far as depriving you of
fork and knife, but you will have to eat in a billiard-
room this time."
The Queen explains: "You see, we asked the
management of the Savoy to spare us the ordeal of
taking our meals under the fire of a battery of
curious eyes, so they arranged for us a private
dining-salon in the former billiard-room."
To be sure, the room we enter still preserves
some of the features so dear to the hearts of the
followers of that ancient though not so noble game.
The billiard-tables have been removed, but the cue-
stands are still in the corners, and a few marks are
visible on the walls. The King nudges me, winks
at the cues, and makes a gesture of a player prepar-
ing to send his ball into the corner.
The center of the room is occupied by a large
table decorated with exquisite simplicity. We are
fifteen. The King sits in the center, between the
two ladies-in-waiting; the Queen is placed opposite
him, with myself on her right, and the Heir Appar-
ent, the Duke of Asturia, on her left. Two handsome
boys are seated next to the two attractive daughters
of Their Majesties. These four exchange glances
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
and frequently whisper between themselves. There
is something infinitely touching in their bright eyes
and in the tenderness with which they address each
other. I look questioningly at the Queen, and she
nods:
-"Yes, you have guessed it right. We are going
to have a double marriage in our family in the very
near future/*
The two boys are the sons of the Infanta Beatrice
and grandsons of my cousin the Duchess of Edin-
burgh, a daughter of Emperor Alexander II of
Russia.
MORE reminiscences are in order. I tell the two
happy fiances of the childhood of their mother. I
hate to appear so old, but I must admit having seen
her for the first time forty-two years ago in London.
She was the youngest one of the four beautiful
daughters of the Duke and the Duchess of Edin-
burgh, and was known as "Baby B." The judges of
pulchritude would have had a hard time choosing
between her and her three sisters, "Missy" (the
present Dowager-Queen Marie of Rumania) ,
"Ducky** (the present wife of Grand Duke Cyril of
Russia) and "Sandra*' (the present Princess of
Hohenlohe-Langenburg) .
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
The youngsters stare at me with awe. At their
age it must seem almost unbelievable that anyone
among the living can sit and talk of the days
when the late King Edward VII of England was
still an "enfant terrible" in the estimation of his
august mother. They ask me to tell them of my
meetings with Queen Victoria, their great-grand-
mother; but I demur. In the first place, they would
next expect me to go farther back, possibly to the
days of King Solomon; in the second place, I would
much rather let them do the talking instead of
listening to the sound of my own voice.
The King and the Queen laugh happily, and even
the gloomy faces of the members of their court
brighten up. Forty-two years ago! What a care-free
life it must have been then! The King was scarcely
four, the others, with the exception of the Duke de
Miranda, were just born or even less than that.
By the time the wild strawberries with the famous
Fontainebleau cream have been served, we all feel
much better. We drink a toast to the younger
daughter Christina, in the honor of whose Saint's
day this luncheon-party is given.
I congratulate the royal parents on having raised
such a lovely girl and on having found for her such
an attractive fianc6.
[30]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
"I suppose you are right, and we should be proud
of our daughters/' replies the Queen, "but there is
one but that clouds their horizon. What does the
future hold for them? Their fiances are about to be
graduated from an engineering school in Switzer-
land, and are perfectly willing to work hard to
make a living; but will they be able to find
positions, particularly in these days of world crisis?
They want to go to the United States; and while we
have no desire to interfere with their ambitious
projects, I am really wondering whether it is a wise
move or not. What do you think, Alexander? You
know America so well."
IT is my turn to become pensive. I think of the
efforts of my own sons directed toward finding em-
ployment in America. It took them years years of
heartbreaks, disappointments and exceptional per-
severance. I do not want to misguide the Queen,
and I tell her frankly of the difficulties facing her
future sons-in-law. I quote the experiences of my
sons Dimitri and Vassily, who fought for their jobs
in New York, and of my son Rostislav, who is work-
ing for a big drygoods firm in Chicago.
My mentioning the word "Chicago" performs a
veritable miracle at this table, where the troubles
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
of the past, present and future were being gravely
weighed but a second before. It is as though a "shot
of iron" had been administered to all the parties
present. Of all the questions, exclamations, curiosity
and laughter!
Do I know Chicago very well?
Have I ever seen a "pineapple'' being thrown at
a judge's house? Have I read Edgar Wallace's Chi-
cago serial in the Daily Mail, and "Geo" London's
Chicago serial in Le Journal?
Do I personally know any one of the famous
gangsters?
Is it true that an especially high premium has to
be paid by all Chicago holders of life-insurance
policies?
"Now, wait, wait!" the King interrupts the ex-
cited youngsters. "Let me ask a question of Alex-
ander: What is the latest news of that famous
Chicagoan? Oh, you know whom I mean my name-
sake; I believe they call him 'the King Alfonso of
Chicago.' Is it true that he owns a gorgeous island
in Florida? Have you ever seen him, or perhaps met
him socially, while wintering at Palm Beach?"
I sit nonplussed. It seems extraordinary that these
people so engulfed in their sorrow and so centered
on the efforts of building a future, could be inter-
[3*]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
ested in the devious ramifications o Mr. Capone's
career. But there they are, almost indignant at me
for not knowing the exact nature of the relations
existing between "Al" Capone and a gentleman they
refer to as Mr. "Legs" Diamond. They consider it
an unforgivable shortcoming for a man of my travel-
ing experiences not to have been present at one of
those "spectacular Chicago funerals."
"Bux how, in heaven's name, do you find time to
follow all these things?" I ask the King. "How do
you know so much about Mr. Capone?"
"Now, Alexander, how could you!" exclaims the
King reproachfully. "Fancy a man living in this
year of grace and not following the career of Al
Capone! Good gracious me, I should hope I do
know everything about him. I get the clippings."
The youngsters shriek in complete delight. I
think admiringly of this wonderful father, a man
who is willing to do everything, even pretend a
tremendous interest in Al Capone, in order to bring
cheer into his daughter's birthday party.
We spend the rest of the meal in "talking Chi-
cago," and in comparing the gangster organizations
of the United States with the ill-famed society of
the Mafia, which caused considerable trouble to the
[33]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
Italian Government during the last twenty years
of the Nineteenth Century.
After the coffee in the absence of a "petit salon"
we are taking it at the table the Queen sends
Christina to bring some Russian cigarettes. I at-
tempt to protest; I do not want to cause additional
worries by my presence at their table; but Her
Majesty insists. Nothing, not even exile, can change
her ideas of hospitality: "Alexander must have his
Russian cigarettes. We were not able to cook a Rus-
sian meal for him, but at least he should enjoy
his favorite tobacco."
"One sees so much Russian in Paris nowadays/'
remarks the King, "Russian shops, Russian theaters,
Russian taxi-drivers, but particularly Russian res-
taurants. It is strange and at the same time signifi-
cant that of all the professions, the exiles should
choose that of restaurant-keepers. Now, take for in-
stance the French political emigrants during the
years of the Revolution and Napoleon's reign. Some
of them became teachers of French in the schools
and private houses of England, Germany and Rus-
sia; the majority, however, fancied the culinary pro-
fession. How do you account for it? What makes the
exiles believe that it is so much easier to work in a
restaurant than do anything else?"
[34]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
ONCE more I exercise my prerogatives of expert
extraordinary, to whom all revolutionary phe-
nomena are simple and clear, and volunteer a com-
parison:
"The exiles invariably remind me of that man
who wanted to write a play just because he needed
money, and because in his days of prosperity he
used to patronize the theaters. Every one of the
political emigrants, who was, is, or intends to be
engaged in the profession of a restaurant-keeper,
belongs to the class of former gourmets. All of them
have spent fortunes in the hostelries of St. Peters-
burg and Moscow, which leads them to believe that
they have all the necessary qualifications of a
caterer/'
The King follows my improvisation with sympa-
thetic attention. It can be plainly seen that he is
worrying about the fate awaiting the numerous
Spanish aristocrats at present in France. Not that
he has in any way influenced their decision to flee
their native country, but he realizes no other choice
was open to them, and he wishes he could somehow
help them.
We smoke and are about to begin a "serious"
conversation, when looking at the two young
couples, I notice the nervous expression of their
[35]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
faces. They fear my talk with their father may last
for hours so many hours taken away from their
happiness, while the etiquette of the court precludes
any one's rising from the table before the King. The
Queen smiles understandingly and signals to His
Majesty. We get up. The two young couples make
for the park in a hurry. The King invites me to his
study, a small room containing a large table and
several armchairs. Not a thing of his own, not a sign
of its being occupied by a sovereign.
Now that we talk on the subject dear to his heart,
he is again the ruler every inch a great ruler.
He speaks in cleaf, concise phrases, in the manner
of one accustomed to sum up in a single sentence
the contents of a two-hundred-page report. He
never raises his voice. He does not need to fall
back on this weapon of haranguing politicians, for
his ideas are crystallized by conviction, and his facts
arrayed as so many mathematical formulae.
"Not so long ago," he commences with a mixture
of amusement and resentment, "an American pub-
lisher made me what I thought a quite unusual
proposition. He offered to pay me ten thousand
dollars for one thousand words. Naturally enough,
I rejected his proposition, magnanimous as it was.
In fact, I did not know where and how I could find
[36]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
all those words. Only think, Alexander, he wanted
one thousand words, when there is just one worth-
while word left in my vocabulary, but that word is
not for sale. Spain! Nothing else interests me; noth-
ing else concerns me. Spain and its happiness. Spain
and its future."
He stops for a short moment and then adds in a
tone the solemn quietness of which accentuates the
utmost importance of the declaration:
"The very moment I put my foot on the friendly
and hospitable soil of France, I told the French Gov-
ernment in the simplest possible fashion: 'I am not
a conspirator!' I wish to repeat it once more. 7 am
not a conspirator. I sha'n't move my little finger to
help anything or anybody cause any difficulty what-
soever to the present Government of Spain. If my
people want me back, now or at any future time, I
shall go back and serve my country in the same way
I did since the day I was sixteen. But this desire of
my people would have to be expressed in the same
strictly constitutional manner, free of any inter-
ference, in which I permitted them to express their
republican preferences on the eve of my departure.
Please, understand it clearly, once and forever:
7 am a King, not a conspirator! The task of the
present Spanish Government is sufficiently hard to
[37]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
make me wish to guarantee them complete freedom
from any hindrance on the part of myself or those
who continue to take my orders. If they should suc-
ceed in making my people happier than before, I
should be the first one to rejoice heartily and to ex-
tend my congratulations!"
WHAT could one reply to a speech of such sin-
cerity?
A long pause. I see his eyes light up with kindness.
He realizes that I am thinking of another sovereign,
who sat across the table from me, just as he is doing
now, and spoke of his desire to give complete free-
dom of choice to his one hundred and sixty million
subjects.
"I do not want to appear overemotional," the
King says shyly, "but you can not expect me to re-
main entirely cool, can you?" Then he continues.
He analyzes the tragic epic of the last spring as a
historian would, unafraid, unbiased, enfranchised.
When he mentions his own actions, he appears to
be speaking of some one else: "The King of Spain,"
he says, "is a tight-rope walker who spent thirty
years of his life trying to maintain his balance."
I have the impression of listening to a cautious
[38]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
professor discussing events of tremendous impor-
tance in the light of newly obtained data.
He knows of my intention to write about him
for the American readers, and he reacts to it in a
characteristic fashion:
"I gladly authorize you to write about me and
our conversations; but remember, Alexander, you
must promise me one thing no flattery! You must
criticize me!"
In French this last phrase of his sounds almost
like a command: "Tu dots me critiquer!"
"AND none spake a word unto him: for they saw
that his grief was very great." This line comes to
my mind as I sit in the improvised study. During
luncheon I did most of the talking, but now that
we are alone, I am prepared to maintain an unin-
terrupted silence. There is just one question, a plain
and a cruel one, that I would like to ask of the
King:
"How did it happen? So sudden so unexpected!
Occurring just at the moment when we all thought
you were the most popular man in Spain!"
He reads my thoughts and spares me the ordeal.
[39]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
"The last Spanish Revolution," he remarks in the
way of introduction, "would present, no doubt, an
unsolvable puzzle for anyone not familiar with the
continuity of the thirty years of my reign. The
troubles that befell my kingdom even long before
my arrival in this world, the peculiar circumstances
surrounding my birth, the atmosphere of my child-
hood, the insurmountable handicaps that accom-
panied my first steps as sovereign all of this must
be understood and analyzed. It all serves to prove,
I suppose, that one can not change the solid pattern
of one's life, the joy of Genesis in the beginning,
the disenchantment of Ecclesiastes at the end!"
His words startle me. They would have sounded
more natural coming from the fatalistic Czar
Nicholas IL Am I still in Fontainebleau in the year
of grace 1931; or have I been transported into
Czarskoie-Selo in 1917?
The King smiles. I never saw another face capable
of changing its expressions so rapidly. All sovereigns
are trained in the art of smiling, but with him it
amounts to a veritable magic. Only a short moment
ago he was "all jaw"; he suggested the daguerreo-
type likeness of a maternal ancestor of his, a ruler of
the Holy Roman Empire: he was a Hapsburg. His
smile brought back his father's son, a Bourbon a
[40]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
finished product of that unique culture which car-
ried its fascination unscathed through ten centuries
of pillaging Saracens, thundering wars and tottering
dynasties.
A Hapsburg and a Bourbon! A quintessence of
ages, this combination of resounding names! Next
to them we are mere newcomers, we the Romanoffs,
our British cousins the Windsors, and the haughty
Hohenzollerns of Prussia. He is forty-five; I am sixty-
five; yet I am several centuries his junior a differ-
ence negligible, perhaps, for history, but rich in
consequences for the undisturbed development of
an enthusiastic attitude toward life. It dawns on me
that he was born with too young and too responsive
a soul in a family crushed under the weight of awe-
inspiring traditions.
The King begins his story. I am the audience
again. Once in a while he stops, stares into space and
illustrates his viewpoint with a remark somewhat
Edwardian in its dry humor. He talks of the things
that are no more. Spain in the nineteenth century a
peninsula ravaged by all imaginable plagues, includ-
ing Napoleon, an endless civil war and the short-
lived republic of 1868. The nation is stunned by the
sudden passing of his father, King Alfonso XII, who
died at the age of twenty-eight on November 2 5th,
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
1885, leaving no male heirs and bequeathing the
throne to his young Austrian wife Maria-Christina.
The Dowager Queen is expectant. On the morning
of May i7th, 1886, hidalgos and farmers alike are
watching for news from the royal palace. Everybody
realizes that the fate of the country depends on the
sex of the posthumous infant. The birth of another
girl would be certain to provoke a new outburst of
the fratricidal slaughter; the supporters of the heirs
of Don Carlos are all set to fight the Dowager Queen
just as they had fought her mother-in-law Queen
Isabella II since 1833.
The ministers, the generals and the parliamen-
tarians are assembled in the throne-room of the pal-
ace, all eyes riveted on the door leading into the
Queen's apartments. The liberal Prime Minister
Senor Sagasta, and the leader of the conservative
opposition, Senor Canovas del Castillo, are talking
in excited whispers. Both of them are praying for a
boy. The hours crawl along. It seems an eternity.
The door opens. The eldest lady-in-waiting to the
Queen is standing on the threshold, holding in her
hands a silver salver covered by a chiffon veil. Senor
Sagasta crosses the throne-room and raises the veil.
He turns toward his colleagues and exclaims trium-
phantly:
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
"Viva el Rey!"
Next moment the crowds in the streets of Madrid
join in that exuberant shout, and the Government
rushes out a manifesto announcing the birth of "Al-
fonso XIII, by the Grace of God and the Constitu-
tion, the Catholic King of Spain."
"There is a story attached to that pompous cere-
mony in the throne-room for whose authenticity I
can not vouch," adds the King smilingly. "Some of
the historians claim that I remained perfectly calm
at the sight of the liberal Prime Minister Sefior
Sagasta, but that the approach of the conservative
leader Serior Canovas del Castillo made me scream.
If it is true, then we may call it a striking case of
infantile liberalism. In any event, I became the
King at the very moment of my birth, the youngest
king ever known in the history of the civilized
world. King Jean I of France was the only other
sovereign of equally demure age, but he kept his
crown for only five days."
KING at the age of sixty seconds! I shudder. It is
bad enough to become one at any age, but at least
an heir apparent to a throne has a chance to enjoy
his early childhood, while my host had to exercise
his dangerous profession long before he was able
[43]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
to walk unassisted. At the age of eleven months he
"opened" Parliament (the Cortes) . At the age of
two he inaugurated an exhibition in Barcelona and
held his first royal levee. Although he delegated the
actual powers to his mother for the next sixteen
years, his subjects persisted in their desire to see
"El Rey" in person, and an amusing episode marked
the third year of his life and reign. One morning,
while awaiting the arrival of an important delega-
tion, he became uncomfortable on the seat of the
throne of his ancestors, and profiting by a short
absence of his nurses, crawled down and climbed
astride one of the gilt lions supporting the throne.
"You see," he comments dryly, "my childish in-
stinct of self-preservation made me realize the safety
of a lion as compared to a throne/'
A NIECE of Emperor Franz-Joseph, his mother
brought to Spain the stern educational ideas of her
native Austria. A Bourbon was raised by her as a
Hapsburg. The King of a nation that enjoyed its
dolce far niente was put in care of physical trainers.
Very frail as a baby, he grew up to be an accom-
plished athlete. Naturally enough, he felt inclined
to let the fervent imagination of his Franco-Spanish
ancestors find employment for the physical strength
[44]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
of his Austrian relatives. Translated into terms of
childhood, it meant a desire to throw mud-pies at
the boys in the streets, and an irresistible urge to
imitate the exploits of the famous bull-fighters
(toreros.) During a visit to a bull-farm he jumped
into the training arena and very nearly lost his life
in a reckless combat with a fierce two-horned cham-
pion. Whenever he could sneak away from his vigi-
lant tutors, he would rush to the royal stables and
ask the grooms to let him break in some untamed
mount. A marvelous horseman even at ten years of
age, he turned each one of his morning rides into a
species of cross-country steeple-chase.
"In due course of time these exploits came to my
mother's attention," he says of that period of his
childhood. "She asked me not to do it again. I par-
ried with a series of my celebrated why's. You must
know that I was an undisputed champion of all the
why-boys of Spain. It is a mystery to me how my
mother succeeded in controlling her temper. Our
daily dialogue usually ran as follows: 'You must not
play with the boys in the streets/ my mother would
say kindly but firmly. 'Why should I not play with
the boys in the streets?' I would answer, enjoying
the dispute. 'Because the King of Spain should re-
main in his palace/ 'Why should the King of Spain
[45]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
remain in his palace?' 'Because the nation is watch-
ing your actions/ 'Why is the nation watching my
actions?' And so on, ad infinitum. In her place I
would have lost my patience after the very first 'why'
and would have shouted: 'Because such are my or-
ders!' But not she. Her determination to explain
everything peacefully knew no limits."
An outlet had to be found, however, for the over-
production of energy displayed by the youthful
King. Once more the Dowager Queen drew upon
the deposits of her Austrian ideas, and new subjects
of learning were added to the program of her son's
education. At the age of ten he possessed a full-sized
army of tutors and teachers, headed by a trio con-
sisting of a bishop, a general and a well-known pro-
fessor of the University of Madrid. The bishop
supervised his "spiritual development." The gen-
eral taught him all an officer should know. The kind
professor took care of the rest, which covered two
score of subjects. Long before the day of his corona-
tion in 1902 he spoke, read and wrote English, Ger-
man and French just as easily and fluently as his
native Spanish, and he knew as much about the af-
fairs of state as any one of his ministers. In order
to please the professor, he had learned the lengthy
Spanish Constitution by heart. According to him,
[46]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
that unusual feat o memory served him well in the
years to come:
"Many a time when dealing with my Council of
Ministers, I had occasion to discover that the gentle-
men who were extremely fond of referring to the
'spirit and the letter of the Constitution' were in
nine cases out of ten ignorant of both! I must admit
I derived a certain amount of malicious pleasure
from reciting to them the correct version of this
or that paragraph of the Constitution quoted by
them in a most haphazard fashion. Thanks to my
professor and to my mother, I received a thorough
governmental training in my early youth. In fact,
even during our meals Mother never stopped lec-
turing me on the subject of the spirit of govern-
ment. I do not doubt that had a fire threatened the
palace, she would have seized upon it as an oppor-
tunity for imparting to me additional knowledge
and experience/'
The year 1903 came, a significant year in his life.
He became the King of Spain de facto and not in
name only. He was sixteen. He is naturally reluctant
to praise his preparedness for the occupation of the
throne; but while he talks, I recall the impression
made by him on Mr. Curry, who represented Presi-
dent Roosevelt at the coronation of 1902 in Madrid.
[47]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
The American delegate was struck by the proud
motto of Spain Dignidad, Lealtad, y Amor de Dios
(Dignity, Loyalty and Love of God) , and thought
that nothing in the whole country illustrated it
better than the young sovereign himself.
I am about to repeat to the King the words of Mr.
Curry, but on second thought I decide it is better
not to: he loathes anything even remotely suggestive
of flattery*
His own memories of the year of the Coronation
cover two particular episodes.
"Now that you are a full-fledged King, what will
your first action be?" asked a friendly Minister.
"My first action? I shall fill my cigarette-case with
dozens of cigarettes."
Up to then he was permitted by his mother to
smoke but one dozen daily.
A somewhat more significant answer was reserved
by him for an exalted representative of the Catholic
Church.
"You must always remember, Your Majesty," said
the latter sententiously, "that you are a son of the
Church and a godson of His Holiness Leo XIII."
"I shall likewise remember," replied the King,
[48]
Z
3
i
ffl
E
u
M
ffi
Z
M
s
B
w
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
"that I am the father of my people/' A typical 1931
answer, though dating back to 1902!
''Later on," recalls the King, "both of us were
often to think of that exchange of remarks. As every-
body knows, the relations between the State and the
Holy See were largely to influence the course of the
following quarter of a century. However, it is a sub-
ject with which I shall deal at greater length later on.
So far we are still in 1902. I have just come of age,
and the Spanish anarchists are losing no time in
taking due notice of this fact/'
THE first attempt against the King's life took place
in 1903. He was fired at while escorting his mother
from the chapel. The buzz of bullets conveyed no
new sound to Queen Maria-Christina, her late hus-
band having encountered his would-"be assassins
twice during his short reign. She looked at her son
anxiously. He laughed. The very idea of being
killed at seventeen seemed ludicrous to him. A
Bourbon had to have faith in the Bourbons' star.
The following year an infernal machine was dis-
covered hidden in the royal palace.
"Both sides held their respective ground firmly/'
explains the King. "I wanted to go on living; they
preferred to see me dead/'
[49]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
Spring of 1905 came. He left for France to pay a
state visit to President Loubet. He liked the French,
and he loved Paris, a combination certain of scoring
heavily with the crowds lining the boulevards. In no
time at all, he became "notre Roi" (our King) ,
threatening to give King Edward VII of England a
hard race for the occupancy of the heart of the
French nation.
On May gist, 1905, at half-past eleven at night,
after a gala performance at the Opera House, he
drove in an open carriage, seated next to President
Loubet, and being wildly acclaimed by the Parisian
population. The President, a dignified man in his
middle sixties, felt pleased by the reception given
to his very young guest. They talked gayly and
smiled at each other, reaping more ovations as they
progressed down the Rue de Rivoli. At the corner
of the Rue Rohan, a man standing in the front row
of a dense crowd raised his hand. A flat object fell
under the right wheels of the state carriage. A terrific
explosion followed, accompanied by a bedlam of
angry voices and groans of agony. The King sat per-
fectly still. Turning toward the trembling President,
he patted his knee gently:
"I am so sorry for you, Mr. President. They could
have had a little more respect for your age. Are you
[50]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FQNTAINEBLEAU
sure you are not hurt? Stand up and see if your feet
are alright."
Mr. Loubet lost his power of speech for a
moment.
"But what about you, Your Majesty?"
The nineteen-year-old monarch burst out laugh-
ing.
"Do not worry about me. We, the kings, are dif-
ferent. Such are the risks of our trade."
Another year passed. The King was about to be
married, and the entire Spanish nation went sleep-
less trying to guess the identity of their future
queen. There was no lack of suggestions. Every min-
ister had his own idea of the "most appropriate
bride for His Majesty/' Princess X. would help the
development of the foreign trade. Princess Y. would
improve Spain's international standing. Princess Z.
seemed to be the favorite of the Holy See,
"How about myself?" asked the King. "Has it ever
occurred to you that I too have something to say?"
"His Majesty is too great a patriot not to recog-
nize the necessity of serving the interests of his
people."
For six consecutive months he opened his eyes in
the morning with the same question.
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
"Well, to what princess have your papers married
me this morning?"
The ministers frowned.
"His Majesty must make up his mind/'
"You are quite right/' agreed the King. "Indeed,
I must make up my mind before you make it up for
me. Next week I am going to baptize my new yacht,
and then you shall know the name of the future
Queen of Spain. Only do not tell it to anyone just
yet. Keep it secret/'
They did keep it secret. Next week some twenty
millions of Spaniards tiptoed in the streets, repeat-
ing to each other: "J ust between you and me, to-
night we shall learn the name of the King's bride-
to-be."
When the beautiful yacht slid down the runways
into the water, the ministers saw written on its bow:
"Queen X."
The King watched the expressions of their faces
on the sly. Their laughter was rather perfunctory.
One had to laugh at one's sovereign's jokes, but he
failed to observe any genuine gayety.
The truth was that he had reached his decision
long before they had,^;nmenced to press him. He
was going to marry Princess Victoria-Eugenie of
Battenberg, a granddaughter of the late Queen
[52]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
Victoria, and a daughter of Prince Henry of Batten-
berg. He had met her in London the previous year;
and to use his own expression, "From that moment
on, English became" his 'language of love/* She
was eighteen, tall, beautiful in that singularly strik-
ing way of a blonde English girl who would much
rather ride to hounds than sit at a bridge-table.
The old Empress Eugenie of France brought about
their acquaintance, and their approaching betrothal
promised to give equal satisfaction both to the two
interested States and to the two royal youngsters
an unprecedented case in the annals of the old con-
tinent.
"Knowing Qnly too well that we would have little,
if any, privacy in the years to come," relates the
King, "I was guarding my secret jealously. In Janu-
ary, 1906, my future wife and her mother came to
visit Princess Frederica of Hanover in the latter's
Villa Mouriscot in Biarritz. Simultaneously I told
my ministers that I would spend a week-end in my
Miramar Palace at San Sebastian, which is situated
just across the border from Biarritz. It seemed to
me that even the busiest gossipers would be 'unable
to detect any 'irregularity* <&. that innocent-looking
trip of mine. I was mistaken. Forty-eight hours later
the newspapers of Paris, London, New York, Ma-
[53]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
drid, Rome, Berlin and Vienna proved their knowl-
edge of geography and their ability to put two and
two together. There was nothing to do but authorize
the official statement."
Princess Victoria-Eugenie and her retinue were
to arrive in Madrid on May isth; the marriage it-
self was to be performed on May gist. Stupefaction
was expressed at the choice of the latter date.
"Does His Majesty realize that May gist will be
the first anniversary of the Parisian attempt on his
life?"
"Yes, of course I do. A lucky date! I came out
without a scratch, did I not?"
Superstitious courtiers shook their heads dubi-
ously. They did not believe in the advisability of
tempting fate twice.
In the meanwhile, most elaborate preparations
had to be made for the royal wedding. Forty Span-
ish peasant women were to work for fifty-six days
and fifty-six nights weaving the gorgeous bridal
gown of satin and silver embroidered with the lilies
of the Bourbons and the roses of England. No pains
were to be spared, as the King wanted to prove to
the world the unsurpassed craftsmanship of Spain.
From May isth to May goth Madrid witnessed
a series of spectacular festivities attended by the
[54]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
representatives of all the European reigning houses.
At half-past eight on the morning of May gist the
King drove to the El Prado Palace to have breakfast
with his bride and her relatives. Ten o'clock found
them in the church of San Geronimo El Real, kneel-
ing before the Primate of Spain, the Archbishop of
Toledo.
Finally the lengthy solemn ceremony drew to an
end, "Ite in pace" ("Go in peace") , said the Arch-
bishop, and the newly-weds stood up to face the
assembly: she in her radiant blonde beauty accentu-
ated by the background of the gorgeous gown, he
with his fascinating smile of a Bourbon, more pro-
nounced than ever.
Vociferous vivas arose outside. The procession
started, headed by the so-called "coach of respect/'
an empty carriage driven by four horses. The King
and Queen drove in the gilt state carriage, sur-
rounded by a guard of honor of the Royal Wad-Ras
Regiment. The density of the crowds could be
judged by the fact that it took the state carriage
twenty-five minutes to cross the Puerta del Sol, a
distance usually requiring not quite three minutes.
When the procession turned into the Calle Major
(Main Street) , the King called the Queen's atten-
tion to the people waving flags and throwing flowers
[55]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
at them out of the windows of the Government
buildings. The Queen turned her head in the direc-
tion pointed by him, and in doing so she moved
closer toward him, to the left side of the carriage.
At this moment they reached No. 88 of the Calle
Major. That house being situated on the right side,
the strange happenings in the window of its fourth
story escaped the attention of the newly-weds. A
man stood there it was the notorious anarchist
Mateo Morrales holding a bulky bouquet in his
hands, his lips moving visibly as though reciting a
prayer, and his eyes glaring at the state carriage. His
pale twitching face attracted the attention of some
of the guards below, but before they could reach
any conclusions as to what should be done, he let
his bouquet fall, missing the top of the royal coach
by a few inches. There was a sudden white flash,
a thunderous noise, scattering of broken glass,
shrieks and cries.
"I caught a strange acrid odor," relates the King,
"and for at least two minutes I could not see a thing
through the thick smoke. When the smoke cleared
away, I saw blood all over the lilies and roses of the
Queen's bridal gown. She was unhurt, but several
of our guards were thrown from their disemboweled
mounts. Men and horses bled profusely. The Calle
[56]
w
l-l
B
ti
Z
S
S
j
W
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
Major presented a terrific sight. Twenty-eight
people were killed, forty wounded. Everybody
shouted hysterically: 'The King and the Queen are
killed!' Only the superhuman discipline of my Wad-
Ras Regiment, who did not break their lines,
checked the general stampede.
"I took the arm of the Queen and walked with
her along the street toward the 'coach of respect'
amidst scenes of horror and enthusiasm. Had it not
been for my desire that she should acknowledge the
greetings of the personnel of the Government build-
ings, she would have been dead now: the bomb ex-
ploded on the right side of our carriage."
Strangely enough, the year 1907 passed without
any particular accidents, outside of a minor attempt
to derail the royal train. The year 1908 ushered in
the tempestuous strikes in Barcelona. Immediately
upon the receipt of the news of considerable blood-
shed in that city, the King decided to go there at
once. His ministers turned pale and said Catalonia
was the very last province of Spain fit to be visited
by the sovereign. On this occasion the King lost his
patience.
"I wish you would understand/' he exclaimed
tersely, "that I am the King of the whole of Spain!
The day I feel afraid to visit any part of my king-
[57]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
dom, I will be honest enough to sign a manifesto
of abdication/'
His Prime Minister Canaleyeas was assassinated
in 1909. In 1911 an explosion coincided with the
King's sojourn in Malaga, while 1913 witnessed his
miraculous escape from the bullets of the anarchist
Rafael Sandez Allegro. He refers to the latter epi-
sode with the utmost simplicity:
"I was always used to being approached by people
in the Streets of Madrid. One would solicit assist-
ance, another would complain of the treatment
received by him at the hands of this or that
official In fact, I encouraged that habit, as it
brought me into close contact with the nation.
There was nothing unusual nor suspicious in the
appearance of Allegro. He stepped out of the crowd
just as I was riding past the place where he stood.
He had a sheet of paper in his hands. It looked like a
petition. I was about to stop my horse, when he
brandished a pistol and began to fire at me. He must
have been a poor shot. The first two bullets missed
me. There was nothing for me to do except what I
actually did. I made my horse rear, and drove
straight at the crazy fellow. I knocked him down.
The whole show lasted about thirty seconds. His
[58]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
third bullet landed in the neck o my beautiful
Alarum. Fortunately, the noble animal recovered.
Come to think of it, I prefer revolvers to bombs:
they do not scatter; you are hit, or you succeed in
dodging the bullets. In either case you do not feel
responsible for having caused the death of scores of
innocent onlookers/'
He expresses his "preference for revolvers" in the
manner in which one would state one's partiality
toward seasoned cheese or extra-dry champagne. He
is not trying to be humorous, and I do not feel like
laughing. I know something about bombs and re-
volvers, the former having been used in the assassina-
tion of my uncle Emperor Alexander II and my
cousin Grand Duke Sergei Alexandrovich. I note,
however, that the King has omitted to mention his
refusal to sign Allegro's death-sentence. Evidently he
thinks it natural, considering his "preference for
revolvers/'
THE outbreak of the World War, which followed
closely the attempt at regicide made by Allegro,
seemed for a while to cool off the zeal of the Spanish
anarchists.
"Spain tried to stand for the ideals of humanity
in the midst of a world-wide conflict. My archives
[59]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
in Madrid contain some of the evidence of our con-
ciliatory work." Thus the King summarizes his atti-
tude in 1914-1918.
This concise formula fails to satisfy me. I remem-
ber vividly how the King of Spain had become over-
night the Good Samaritan of the bleeding world,
and how his country, the only Great Power in
Europe to remain neutral, was intrusted by all bel-
ligerent states with the difficult task of representing
their respective interests in the camps of the enemies.
I insist on getting a more detailed story of his "con-
ciliatory work/' He willingly describes the efforts of
his ambassadors, but talks most reluctantly about his
own achievements.
"My ambassador in Berlin took charge of seven
deserted embassies; my ambassador in Vienna
handled six. At the end of the war their services
were gratefully acknowledged by the Allies and the
Central Powers alike/'
"But what about the numberless soldiers located
through your own efforts? What about those French
women rescued by you from the German courts-
martial?"
He answers in monosyllables. I am afraid that in
this particular instance I have to recur to the assist-
ance of his friend Marquis de Torres. The picture
[60]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
drawn by the latter (notwithstanding the reproach-
ful glance of his King) deserves to be brought to
the world's attention.
Right after the first battle of the Marne a strange
letter arrived in Madrid. The address read: "To the
King of Spain." Nothing else. The writer, a French
peasant woman, wondered whether His Majesty
would locate her son, who had disappeared on the
second day of the battle. "He is an awfully good boy,
and I must have him back." The plain language of
the letter touched the King. He wired his ambas-
sador in Berlin, ordering him to take action before
the German Red Cross. Two weeks later the boy
was found in a prisoners' camp. The story caused
a sensation. By October, 1914, the daily mail of the
King of Spain jumped to four thousand letters. The
French and the British, the Germans and the Aus-
trians, the Turks and the Australians, the Belgians
and the Poles, the Canadians and the Russians
everybody begged him to locate their fathers, sons
and husbands.
The benevolent organizations followed the ex-
ample of the private individuals. The Austrian Red
Cross asked him to intervene with the Russian Im-
perial Government on behalf of their nationals. The
British Red Cross stated that their wounded in
[61]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
Saloniki were craving for a taste of Spanish oranges.
The German Red Cross solicited his assistance in
arranging an exchange of permanently disabled pris-
oners with France and Great Britain.
The belligerent Governments came next in line.
Would His Majesty wire to the Kaiser asking clem-
ency for a French woman accused of espionage in
Belgium? Would His Majesty wire to the President
of the French Republic asking clemency for a Ger-
man spy caught in Paris? Would His Majesty wire
to the King of England pleading extenuating cir-
cumstances in the case of an Austrian arrested in
London?
BY the beginning of 1915 a whole wing of the
Royal Palace in Madrid was turned into a mammoth
bureau of research, hundreds of secretaries assort-
ing, answering, and following up the letters and pe-
titions. The cases where a human life was at stake
were handled by the King in person. He worked
out a formula which seemed to affect even the stern
Kaiser: "// y a deja assez de victimes" ("There are
enough victims, as it is") , he concluded his wires
to Berlin, Vienna, Paris, London, St. Petersburg,
Sofia and Constantinople. The French Government
credited him with having saved the lives of sixteen
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
French citizens (nine women among them) con-
demned to be shot by the German courts-martial.
The exact figures dealing with the other nationali-
ties are not available, but the aggregate amount
must run into several hundred.
On January 23, 19 17, a delegation of 9281 Span-
ish municipalities (Ayuntamientos) presented him
with an address and a special decoration commemo-
rating his services to humanity. A poet in far-away
San Salvador dedicated to him an ode, its three con-
cluding lines echoing throughout Latin America:
Y en tanto que en Europa escandaliza
El odio, el disipa sus nublados,
Con la aurora triunfante de su sonrisa.
("And while Europe is shrouded in hate, he dis-
pels the clouds with the triumphal aurora of his
smile/')
I can hardly qualify as a judge of Spanish poetry;
but I am able, nevertheless, to appreciate the senti-
ment of that San Salvador ode. It fits my own mem-
ories of the King of Spain in the years of Europe's
madness. We used to call him then "the Mother
Dolorosa of Madrid/*
The King raises his hand in protest: "May I sug-
[63]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
gest our leaving San Salvador and returning to
Spain?"
WAR or peace, weekday or holiday, there were the
duties of the royal office to be attended to.
"Lots of people are using the expression 'royal
office/ " comments the King, "but very few recog-
nize that the emphasis should be laid on the word
'office.' The only difference between the office of a
King and the office of a big modern executive lies
in the additional and very cumbersome social du
attached to the former."
I remind him jokingly that once upon a time
there was a sovereign, Louis XIV by name, who re-
ferred to his duties as "my delightful royal profes-
sion" (man delicieux metier de roi) . We both
laugh. He has his own experience to consider, while
I keep before my eyes the ever-vivid figures of my
uncle, my cousin and my brother-in-law, the three
emperors of Russia who would have disagreed most
bitterly with the "horn-tooting" philosophy of the
Versailles autocrat.
The King talks of his former strict and rigorous
routine.
He was up at seven A. M V sometimes earlier but
never later. After a light breakfast at eight coffee
[64]
Wide World photo
KING ALFONSO AT THE AGE OF SIXTEEN.
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
and rolls he began his working day by receiving the
Prime Minister. The two of them discussed the
latest political news and the projects pending before
the Council of Ministers. From ten to three the
King sat and listened to the steady eloquence of
other ministers, important industrialists and foreign
visitors. Although the ruler of the most ceremonious
country in the world, he suspended all rules of eti-
quette. Transatlantic bankers anxious to meet the
King of Spain used to call up his secretary a few
minutes before the appointed time, asking him what
they should wear.
"What have you got on now?"
"Right this moment I am in my golf-suit."
"Come straight along."
The very old courtiers, remembering the splen-
dor of the '8o's, looked with bewilderment at the
soft collars, knickers and multicolored sweaters ap-
pearing in the stately antechamber of the royal pal-
ace. The King did not care. "I took it for granted
that they brought in their trunks all that is necessary
to make a fine appearance, but I preferred to have
them do their talking in comfort."
He ate his luncheon alone, the family having long
since finished theirs. At half-past three he was back
"on the job," ready to spend the balance of the after-
[65]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
noon in company of native parliamentarians and for-
eign visitors. He was never able to determine which
one of these two categories possessed a bigger gift of
fluent speech. He knew that it took the Spaniards
four thousand speeches to pass the Local Govern-
ment Bill through the Cortes; but he was likewise
sufficiently familiar with the "matter-of-fact" cap-
tains of industry from across the seas to question
their reputation for briefness and lucidity. They all
began by saying: "It will take me, Your Majesty,
but a few minutes. I am not an orator, I am a busi-
ness man." And they were still talking full speed
long after the passing of the allotted time.
The English ancestry of the Queen made it oblig-
atory for him to attend the family tea at five-thirty.
That was the only time of the day he could spend
with his four sons and two daughters. The Heir
Apparent, known to his father as "Alfonsito,"
wanted to become a farmer. The elder daughter,
Beatrice, showed signs of unmistakable talent for
painting. The second son, Don Jaime, disclosed a
preference for the affairs of state. The younger
daughter, Maria Christina, was an accomplished
sportswoman. She wished she were permitted to play
polo on her father's team. The third boy, Don Juan,
dreamed of the life of a sailor. The youngest boy,
[66]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
Don Gonzales, excelled in the manly art of box-
ing.
They were a friendly and a cheerful lot, and some-
thing exciting was happening to them almost every
day of their lives. An American gentleman driving
through the woods where Beatrice was painting a
landscape stopped his car to admire it, and in-
structed his wife to "talk to that girl and buy her
work as a souvenir. Only don't you dare offer her
more than a couple of bucks. You know how those
Spaniards are." Another conquering visitor met the
young Heir Apparent near the royal farm on the
River Manzanares, and slipped him a quarter "in
good American money" for showing him the road
to town.
The Queen wanted her children to be educated
in England. As their father, my august host sympa-
thized with this desire, but as King of Spain he had
to insist on choosing native institutions of learning.
AN hour spent at the tea-table filled him with new
enthusiasm. At half-past six he went back to the
office and stayed there till late in the evening. Some-
times he granted particularly urgent audiences long
after midnight.
"Talk about an eight-hour day," he exclaims
[67]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
laughingly; "why, I think kings should organize a
union and pass a resolution insisting on a maximum
twelve-hour day!"
The analysis of an average day, picked at random,
discloses the following appointments and audiences:
(1) Conference with the Prime Minister.
(2) A report of the Minister of Public Instruc-
tion on the progress of the Ciudad University
founded by the King a few years before.
(3) Report of the War Minister.
(4) Audience to an American magnate.
(5) Audience to a delegation representing Span-
ish tourist industries. Would His Majesty consent
to organize a regatta at Santander? It would be sure
to attract most desirable voyagers to Spain.
(6) Audience to a delegation of Barcelona
workers.
(7) Audience to a foreign ambassador soliciting
some very special privileges for the industrialists of
his country. His request is impertinent. He must,
however, be sent away smiling broadly.
(8) Audience to a delegation of Spanish ship-
ping interests. Would His Majesty consent to take
a trip to London aboard their new vessel? It would
be certain to promote the maritime passenger traffic
between Spain and England.
[68]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
(9) Solicitors of royal charity, of both sexes and
all descriptions.
(10) Social calls: Ambassadors departing and
ambassadors newly arrived.
AND so it went, almost every day of his life and
reign. He traveled a great deal, but without any
exception his voyages were undertaken with some
ultimate purpose of state in view.
The readers of the American newspapers used to
say on seeing his photo in the rotogravure sections:
"The King of Spain is certainly having a good time."
The truth is that he very rarely succeeded in having
even a moderate degree of good time, although his
smile left nothing to be desired by the exacting
camera-men of the ubiquitous transatlantic syndi-
cates.
He officiated at football matches, raced yachts and
motorcars, played tennis and polo, not because he
could not find something else to do, away from the
crowds and the reporters, but because his deter-
mination to instill a new spirit into the heart of a
very old nation required his showing a personal
example and exercising a continuous active leader-
ship.
"I did enjoy playing polo, though," he confesses
[69]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
quite readily. "It is a marvelous game, particularly
for one who is obliged to control his temper every
second of his time. What I mean to say is this: when
you play polo, you are supposed to hit the ball hard,
the harder the better. Now, if you are endowed with
any imagination at all, you can visualize the ball as
the face of an annoying person. You hit it with all
your might, and you add under your breath: 'I am
about to get even with you, you pest of my existence;
take that, and that, and that and some more is still
coming/ ... I do believe polo, if approached sci-
entifically, could be used as a very efficient safety-
valve for all sorts and cases of suppressed emotions/'
I like this idea exceedingly well and regret that
polo never acquired much of a vogue in Russia.
The memory of the days when the King of Spain
galloped on the polo-field a bright spot of his own
colors of Castile indicating his participation in a
hard-fought match makes him think of his other,
still less conventional attempts to modernize the
stereotyped conception of a monarch. Looking back
at that aspect of his thirty years on the throne, he
characterizes his "unusual actions" as a policy of
four paradoxes.
"Very early in life," he concludes with a slight
tinge of sadness in his voice, "I became convinced
[70]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FQNTAINEBLEAU
that, not unlike a human being, a State can not re-
main at a standstill. It goes forward or it rolls back-
ward. What was I to do? Usual methods spelled stag-
nation. I was obliged to try the paradoxical ones. I
attempted to be an up-to-date king in the country of
the most ancient royal traditions in the world. I en-
deavored to create a democracy without the benefit
of screaming demagogues and cheap grandstand
players. I strove to reconcile the orthodox dogmae of
the Catholic Church with the boldest theories of
modern science. And most daring of all, I believed
in the necessity of building heavy industries in a
land that had preserved its purely agricultural char-
acter even after the passing of a century of epochal
technical discoveries. Does it surprise you that I
experienced considerable difficulty in maintaining
my balance? Have you ever heard of a circus per-
former who had to walk a rope as tight and thin as
mine?"
A STRANGER entering this sparsely furnished room
of the Hotel Savoy in Fontainebleau would be sur-
prised to discover that the management calls it the
"Royal Study." Least of all would he be willing to
believe that the man seated behind a plain desk
piled with books and documents is really King Al-
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
fonso XIII of Spain. All photographs lie. His Catho-
lic Majesty's brilliant humorous eyes suggest but re-
motely their likeness so familiar to the readers of
the Sunday rotogravure sections. His always even
manner and well-modulated voice never disclose the
emotionality to be expected from the chief protag-
onist of one of the tensest dramas of modern times.
Fontainebleau is lying outside, mellowed by age
and eloquent in its uninterrupted green-and-marble
silence.
The King's two young daughters and their fiances
are playing tennis in the park, not far from the court
where Napoleon held his last review of the Old
Guard. The memories of 1814 enter the continuity
of 1931, creating an atmosphere of soothing un-
reality. The odd fascination of life grows clearer and
more tangible.
I look at the King. I think of my own past. My
mind drifts across the ocean. Thirty-five hundred
miles away, in the canon of Wall Street, overexcited
people are wringing their hands in despair, and are
prophesying the imminent end of the world just
because the perfidious stock-market failed to act in
accordance with their wishes. Here in Fontainebleau
the two of us are mourning two thrones lost by the
Spanish sovereign and my late brother-in-law; and
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
yet neither of us is inclined to consider his personal
tragedy as a sign of this planet's dismal failure.
While I myself have long since written down to
"profits and losses" the fifty years of my Imperial
life, my august host has likewise preserved his abil-
ity to appreciate the supreme sarcasm of human
comedy.
We talk of our countries, drawing parallels obvi-
ous to an outsider, but full of meaning for the two
interested parties.
I maintain with fervor that his experience and
mine travel a long way toward proving the transi-
tory character of all values conceived on a purely
material plane. He listens sympathetically, but the
corners of his lips are twitching.
"I have noticed, Alexander/' he remarks casually,
"that today your sermon scored rather heavily with
the ladies at the table/'
"So it would appear/' I reply, a bit embarrassed,
"but I have noticed, on the other hand, that you
were smiling all through our discussion."
His strong, athletic figure shakes with laughter.
"I am afraid, Alexander, you misunderstood the
meaning of my smile. Needless to say, I thoroughly
agreed with you. Unfortunately, I was still under
the impression of a somewhat different discussion
[73]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
that took place this very morning, shortly before
your arrival. The selfsame two ladies, friends of
ours, who showered you with compliments express-
ing their contempt for the riches of the world, had
spent a full hour crying and begging me to do some-
thing to protect their investments in Spain. I feel
much better now that I have discovered their spir-
itual inclinations. In fact, I think I shall refer them
straight to you for further guidance, should they
broach the financial subject again/'
The joke is on me.
"Some people are funny," I suggest compromis-
ingly.
"Did you say, 'some people? You are being very
mild, indeed!" he answers with a marked sarcasm
in his voice. "I suspect that most people are excru-
ciatingly funny, particularly to one with a weakness
for slapstick comedy. But then, of course, I might be
prejudiced in this matter, having dealt a bit too fre-
quently with professional politicians. Oh, those poli-
ticians!"
HE makes a grimace expressing his acute dislike
for the word politicians.
"Have you ever heard, Alexander," he asks quite
seriously, "of a monarch who has been too lenient
[74]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
and too ruthless at the same time? Who has proven
himself both a cruel tyrant and an oversentimental
humanitarian?"
His question requires no answer. The allusion is
plain. Although not a monarch, I happen to know
what he is talking about. For quite a few years now,
I myself have been accused of near-bolshevism by
the Russian royalistsa fact which in no way de-
creases the hatred felt for me by the Soviets. In the
words of Anatole France: "One is always somebody's
bolshevik/*
"Well/* continues the King, "according to my
recollections, such was the case of King Alfonso
XIII of Spain! The Conservatives were always de-
nouncing me for my so-called 'excessive radicalism/
while the Liberals never stopped reproaching me
for violating this or that irrelevant clause of the
Constitution. The Conservatives told me that the
whole of Spain was clamoring for an uncompromis-
ing autocrat, for a replica of a Caesar of the Holy
Roman Empire. The Liberals, on the other hand,
swore that the nation would be certain to revolt
against any sovereign attempting to change even a
comma in the sacred document of 1876. I often
wonder what all those brilliant diagnosticians have
to say now, after the supposed admirers of autocracy
[75]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
have voted three to one in favor of the Republic,
and after the alleged worshipers of the Constitution
have witnessed without a murmur the spectacle of its
being torn to pieces by the present Government of
Spain!"
He shrugs his broad shoulders, giving me to un-
derstand that having made this swift thrust at his
former critics, he feels no further desire to review
the petty disputes of the political yesterday.
The past interests him only in so far as its un-
solved problems are bound to determine the course
of the future.
"The day is not far off," he says with utmost
modesty, though emphasizing each word, "when the
Spaniards will realize that I was not such a bad king,
after all, and that I did do something for the wel-
fare of Spain. In my personal opinion, I have
achieved as great a degree of success as could be ex-
pected from a ruler who had to contend with four
major and a dozen minor attempts against his life,
the consequences of two costly wars and numberless
ever-smoldering uprisings. Mine was, indeed, a life
of deep vicissitude.
"As I see it from this distance, the main achieve-
ment of my reign consisted in my having charted
a 'middle course' for both ruler and people. 'Glissez,
[76]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
mortels; n'appuyez pas! (Glide, mortals; do not
force issues) '. . . . Revolutions will come and go,
but any Spanish government will have to continue
navigating between the highways of the vast indus-
trial empires and the trails of the rustic agricultural
countries. Independent of future political develop-
ments, the nation will be obliged to reconcile the
daring attempts of its grandchildren with the bind-
ing traditions of its forefathers.
"The eloquent orators of the present Spanish re-
publican regime have nicknamed last April's up-
rising an 'elegant revolution/ I sincerely hope for the
sake of all Spaniards that the months and the years
to come will not rob their revolution of its 'ele-
gance/ but one thing is sure; there is no getting
away from those well-nigh insolvable problems
which have turned my thirty years on the throne
into thirty years of walking on a tight-rope. . . .
My problems were many. The first and foremost of
them had to do with the relations between the State
and the Church. The Ruler of Spain and the Holy
See!"
He pronounces these last words of his in the man-
ner of a convention-orator sounding the keynote
of a political platform. I am extremely glad he has
broached that very delicate subject on his own ini-
[77]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
tiative. While in America the whole of last spring,
I had searched in vain through the long columns of
the New York newspapers for a plausible explana-
tion of the anti-religious riots in Spain. Although
the "special correspondents" spared no colors in de-
scribing the burning of one hundred and fifty-odd
convents and cathedrals which occurred hardly four
weeks after the outbreak af the revolution their
dispatches failed to mention whether those outrages
in any way reflected the real feelings of the Spanish
people. Faithful to my habit of drawing parallels,
I recalled at the time that it took fully eight months
of a gradual increase of the Red tempo before simi-
lar disturbances took place in Russia* I felt amazed
that the Catholic Church, having done so much for
the cause of civilization, should have seemed to in-
spire no more respect in the revolutionaries than
the Greek Orthodox Church, never known for its
cultural achievements.
The King hastens to assure me that the acts of
vandalism committed by the hoodlum section of the
"elegant revolution'' were never approved by the
republican regime, least of all endorsed by the
Spanish people.
"The Spaniards/' exclaims the King, "are just as
deeply religious today as they were six months ago!
[78]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
Only a person utterly ignorant o the vital events
of our history would believe that the mere fact of
my absence from Madrid could suffice to uproot the
secular tree of Spanish Catholicism. Let us not for-
get that the very definite religious policy of the
Spanish state had always been dictated by the people
to the throne, never by the throne to the people.
It is not by accident nor through a fancy of my an-
cestors that of all sovereigns of ancient and modern
times, we, the kings of Spain, were the only ones to
have the word Catholic added to our title."
The logic of his argument is striking. Perhaps for
the first time in my life I feel inclined to analyze
the resounding titles of European royalty. He enu-
merates the past and present sovereigns.
The Emperor of Austria was known as "His Apos-
tolic Majesty/' the King of France as "His Christian
Majesty," the King of Portugal as "Fidelissimo," the
King of England is still using the title "Defender
of the Faith/' "His Catholic Majesty" was an exclu-
sive attribute of the kings of Spain as far back as the
Middle Ages. Unlike some other monopolies, this
particular one signified more obligations than privi-
leges. The Popes considered Spain as the "favorite
daughter of Rome," in consequence of which the
Catholic clergy, having lost its strongholds in
[79]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
France, Italy and Portugal, decided to transfer its
activities into my august host's kingdom. In due
course of events, and long before the birth of King
Alfonso XIII, Catholicism had become both the
main cultural force and the leading influence in the
internal life of Spain. Nothing illustrates this situa-
tion better than two historical religious traditions of
the royal court which the King describes in detail,
"Beginning with the year 1242, each and every
king of Spain had to dedicate Thursday of the Holy
Week to the ceremony of the washing of the feet of
thirteen beggars. My ancestor Fernando III intro-
duced this tradition, anxious to show his royal hu-
mility in imitation of the Savior's act of washing the
feet of his disciples. The Spaniards liked this cus-
tom. It reminded them that their monarchs were
first of all Christians and then only kings.
"THE ceremony itself ran as follows: on the morn-
ing of that day thirteen poor men were brought into
the palace, given new clothes and then invited to
take their seats in the Hall of Columns. The King
would appear, escorted by the attendants carrying
all necessary paraphernalia. The officiating priest
read the corresponding chapter from St. John, with
the King scrupulously following each of the three
[80]
'"""" , . . KING ALFONSO
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
principal movements described in the Scrip-
tures.
"'Posuit vestimenta sua (he laid aside his gar-
ments) .... Precinxit se (he girded himself) ....
Ccepit lavare (he began to wash) /
"Naturally enough, the actual washing of the thir-
teen pairs of feet was done before their possessors
entered the Hall of Columns, but even so, I did gird
myself with an apron and did use a sponge soaked in
water. The ceremony over, each one of the thirteen
men was given a whole turkey, a whole baby lamb
and so forth, to take home for Easter. They used
to sell it to the Madrid merchants or to foreign visi-
tors curious to taste of 'royal food/ "
Another equally characteristic religious tradition
of the court of Spain had to do with the installation
of the new Cardinals of Spanish origin. On this
occasion, the Pope used to send a special edict to the
King, delegating the divine powers of the Holy See
to the lay throne of Spain. The ceremony took place
among scenes of medieval splendor and was at-
tended by the highest representatives of the clergy
and the numerous dignitaries of the court. The
King ordered the edict read, and then placed, with
his own hands, the red "biretta" dispatched from
Rome on the head of the new Cardinal. The symbol-
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
ical meaning of this procedure, established by cen-
turies of history and generations of rulers, invariably
met with the enthusiastic acclaim of the Spanish
masses. They felt as though their king brought them
closer to God by acting as the emissary extraordinary
of Christ's vicar on earth.
The Holy Father's affection for Spain found still
another expression in the traditional act of pre-
senting the so-called "fajas henditas (girdles for the
infant's wardrobe) " to the newly-born royal chil-
dren and the blessed "golden roses" to those of the
kings and queens whose piety left no doubt in the
minds of the Vatican. The "golden rose habit" dated
back to 1 148, when King Alfonso VII of Castile was
the first to receive that cluster of roses of gold with
gold leaves and thorns set with precious stones
which had been blessed by the Pope on the fourth
Sunday of Lent.
"Among my immediate relatives," the King re-
lates, "my grandmother Queen Isabella II, my
mother Queen Maria-Christina, and my own wife
were the three proud recipients of the golden
rose. Contrary to the misrepresentations of the revo-
lutionary writers, this token of the esteem of Rome
had created, perhaps, even greater jubilation among
the masses than it did at court.
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
"I AM relating to you these details so you can
understand the origin of Spain's religious policy.
I may say that the cooperation between the kings
of Spain and the popes of Rome antedates almost
any other cardinal fact of modern civilization. No
government can afford to destroy light-heartedly
that which has proved beneficial for over nine cen-
turies. I admit cheerfully and readily that I made it
a point to exercise particular care in preserving
Spain's friendly relations with the Vatican. I am a
great believer in the progressive forces within the
Catholic Church, and from the very beginning of
my reign I knew that the Holy Father would be only
too glad to collaborate with me in promoting
healthy reforms. I claim that, thanks to my deter-
mination to uphold the institutions of the Catholic
Church, I was able to bridge the past and the pres-
ent, the Middle Ages and the Twentieth Century,
the dogmae of the Fifteenth Century and the boldest
theories of our very conceited era. The superficial
critics of the Holy See are totally unaware of the
tremendous changes which have entered the policies
of the Vatican during the past fifty years. It would
not be an exaggeration on my part to say that Rome
has left the democracies far behind in its straightfor-
[83]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
ward desire to recognize the pressing needs of the
less successful classes and groups of humanity.
"Had I, as a king, been given as much encourage-
ment by the politicians as I received from the clergy,
the history of Spain would have taken a vastly dif-
ferent course. I have mentioned already that mine
was a policy of four paradoxes. Well, the paradox
Number One dealing with the relations between the
state and the Holy See caused me no particular
trouble. It is not my fault that in the very first
month of its rule the republican government has
destroyed the fruit of thirty years.
"Now I shall describe to you the workings of the
second paradox of a king who attempted to become
an up-to-date ruler in the most tradition-bound
country in the world."
He stops for a moment, evidently searching his
mind for facts illustrating his "second paradox." We
smoke in silence.
The tooting of automobile horns and the sounds
of loud laughter come from the park. Life goes on
with its tourists and picnic parties, indifferent to
royal heartbreaks, and ignorant of the political his-
tory of Spain that was.
"There was a Spanish aristocrat once upon a
time/' the King commences again, "who thought he
[84]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
deserved a high court position. My mother, Queen
Maria-Christina, entertained a slightly lower opin-
ion o his qualifications, and on this hinges the story
of a titled follower of the revolution. The gentle-
man in question turned Red overnight. He became
a friend of Blasco Ibaiiez and dedicated all his time
to a shameless campaign against the King of Spain.
Foreigners said he was a man of courage. Native
radicals claimed him as their leader. As a chamber-
lain of the court, he would have been outspoken
in his condemnation of parliamentarism; as a re-
jected aspirant, he advocated revolt. ... A typi-
cal product of an epoch of transition, he should be
remembered as a living example of that Spanish so-
ciety which combined a deep admiration for titles
with a passion for rather childish feuds against the
Crown.
"I must admit that at first I was slightly amazed
by this unique mentality of the higher classes. Then
I decided to beat them at their own game. If they
thought it correct for their sons to gather in the
republican clubs and for their wives to preside over
the "pink radical salons/ it was only logical for their
sovereign to assume leadership of the democratiza-
tion of Spain. In other words, much to their disgust,
[85]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
I interpreted their speeches literally and took their
slogans at face-value.
"THE denunciations of the 'royal Camarilla'
which have resounded throughout Spain for the last
fifty years were met by my orders to reduce the staff
of the court to a minimum, and not to grant any fur-
ther appointments. There was likewise a consider-
able amount of idle talk about the necessity of
'pouring new wine into the old cask/ Imitating the
British habit of criticizing the House of Lords, the
parlor socialists of Spain claimed that something
should be done to rejuvenate the aristocracy. I liked
this idea exceedingly well, so much so that I created
a new series of titles, distributing them chiefly
among the publishers of the influential Spanish
newspapers. - . . The proud possessors of names
dating back to Charles V suddenly found themselves
side by side with the owners of Madrid and provin-
cial dailies. . . . Unless I am very much mistaken,
this measure of mine failed to cause any excessive
jubilation among the champions of the 'new blood/
My next democratic steps were traced in the direc-
tion of the students and Parliament. The former
complained that the kings of Spain paid but little
attention to the interests of higher education;
[86]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
the latter brooded over the growing phantom of
socialism. Once more I accepted idle words as true
facts. I began to visit the University of Madrid and
sit through lectures of professors known for their
bitter opposition to the regime, congratulating them
on their frankness, and at the same time asking them
some 'embarrassing questions' as to the sources of
their amazing information. Furthermore, I founded
the Ciudad University, conceived and planned as an
institution of pure learning. The students ap-
plauded my appearance in the auditorium but con-
tinued their participation in the republican clubs.
Politics interested them much more than science.
"Now, as to Parliament: You may recall the sen-
sation created in Europe in January, 1913, by my
decision to consult the leaders of the Republican-
Socialist Party during the course of a governmental
crisis. Bear in mind that it occurred long before any-
one could have thought that the chiefs of the British
Labor Party would sit on the benches of His Britan-
nic Majesty's Government. In fact, I was the very
first sovereign of Europe to invite a socialist to pay
me a visit in my palace. In the presence of the Prime
Minister, Count Romanones, I told Ascaratez (such
was the name of that socialist) that I intended to
make it a rule always to consult his anti-regime party
[87]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
before reaching any important decision, and that,
generally speaking, I was inclined to consider myself
a 'crowned president of a republic/ The newspapers
of all the world quoted this last remark of mine; but
the Spanish parliamentarians expressed their ex-
treme dissatisfaction with the 'dangerous turn taken
by the King/ They had the right to use the bugaboo
of socialism, but I had no right to consult its cham-
pions! And speaking about my rights: a prominent
Spanish Conservative leader once told me that
no king has a right to express his ideas in an out-
spoken fashion. ... I could not think of a better
reply than that telling the truth was a duty rather
than a right of the sovereign.
"Duties and rights, rights and duties! No other
subject interests the parliamentarians. It seems they
could spend centuries debating the question
whether the King's insistence on passing this or that
reform does not disguise his desire to infringe upon
some cherished rights of Parliament. By the time
they finish talking, so much precious time has been
wasted that the debated reform utterly loses its prac-
tical purpose.
"Do not think that I am opposed to democracy.
Far from it! I am the greatest friend of democracy,
provided it consents to rid itself of demagogues and
[88]
HIS FIRST CAR . . .
PRESIDENT
DRIVEN BY HIS ROYAL CHAUFFEUR.
T.OV4T WTTNT.
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
grandstand-players. Up to this day no democracy has
ever been able to achieve that miracle. I myself
tried to perform it in Spain and failed, although I
did my very best to keep prejudice and bias from
influencing my judgment. I am not discouraged,
however. I do believe that a day will come when
the people of Spain will express their readiness to
follow the program of their king. / have not abdi-
cated as yet. Do not forget itl"
He is not threatening anyone. As he told me be-
fore, not for a second would he think of handicap-
ping the labors of the present Government of Spain.
His words, "I have not abdicated as yet," simply
state a historical fact. While living away from Spain
in his temporary exile abroad, and letting his sub-
jects enjoy freedom of choice, he remains, neverthe-
less, the King, ever ready to answer the call of the
nation when and if it should be sounded. It would
not be the first time in the history of Spain nor of
several other European nations that a monarch who
left his country voluntarily would be invited to re-
sume possession of the throne. The editorial writers,
vociferous in their proclamation of a New Era, seem
to forget that even the well-established Republic of
France is but sixty years old. My understanding of
history leads me to believe that ten centuries of
[89]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
Bourbons may easily outweigh the sixty years of
the presidents of France on the scales of Europe's
destiny.
I need not communicate these thoughts of mine
to the King. He knows his history better than I do,
and is well aware of the fact that the first abortive
Spanish Republic of 1873 lasted scarcely one year,
just long enough to bring the nation into a state of
complete despair, and was followed by the invita-
tion issued by Parliament to his father, King Alfonso
XII, to occupy the throne of Spain.
Now that the King has told me of his efforts to be-
come an up-to-date ruler and promote an honest
democracy, there is one more "paradox to deal
with: he believed in the necessity of building new
industries in an agricultural country. On this occa-
sion the ledger speaks. During his reign Spain
reached a point when for the first time in almost a
century its annual budget was balanced, and its cur-
rency, the peseta, enjoyed an unprecedented stabil-
itywhich collapsed immediately after the revolu-
tion of last April. * . .
Although a fervent Spaniard, first and last, Al-
fonso XIII developed a cosmopolitan outlook and
an understanding of foreign countries in his early
[903
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
youth. That helped a lot in attracting foreign visi-
tors and capital to Spain.
"In order to restore its former prosperity, Spain,
the new Spain of the Twentieth Century, had to
become known to the world at large/' explains the
King. "A country just as beautiful and fascinating
as France, Spain suffered from the lack of facilities
reserved for the visitors. Therefore I, the King of
Spain, was obliged to act as inspirer of an industry
counting innkeepers among its most important lead-
ers. 'Build highways and construct modern hotels,
and you will enjoy prosperity/ I invariably said to
the delegations of tradesmen visiting my palace.
'But first of all, understand the necessity of adver-
tising/
"The results of my initiative speak for themselves.
At the moment of my coronation there were hardly
five hundred miles of highways suitable for auto-
mobile touring. Today there are some sixteen thou-
sand miles of concrete roads that could compete
with the best to be found in the United States. The
modern Spanish hotels are highly admired by all
tourists, while the Hotel of Alfonzo XIII, recently
constructed in Seville, is conceded to be the most
luxurious in the world.
"The consequences of this external transforma-
[91]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
tion of Spain could be well imagined. Each of the
past thirteen years saw an ever-increasing flow of
visitors. They came to see and to learn. The Amer-
ican capitalists became interested in financing the
Spanish public utilities. A powerful New York con-
cern was granted by me a concession for telephones
and telegraphs, a transaction which proved highly
beneficial to both sides. The American stockholders
acquired a new interest in the country that paid a
handsome return on their investment, while the
Spaniards were given an ideally constructed system
of communications. Naturally enough, the example
of the International Telephone and Telegraph
Company influenced the other large American con-
cerns. In the days of Alexander Moore as Ambassa-
dor of the United States in Spain, hardly a day
passed without at least one American mining or
utilities magnate arriving in Madrid to submit a
proposition for my approval. All of this meant
steady employment for Spanish workers, better
wages* healthier living conditions.
"Politically speaking, it signified a very broad and
very comprehensive basis for Spanish-American
friendship. I am proud to think that in the short
thirty years of my reign, continuously interrupted
by external and internal complications, I did make
[9*]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FQNTAINEBLEAU
a sympathetic friend out of a country which had
made war on us but four years before my coronation.
"The principles that guided my relations with
the United States were applied by me with equal
success in my dealings with England and France
two other former foes of Spain, and its present cor-
dial friends. I am tempted to hope that even the
revolutionary historians will admit that having in-
herited from my ancestors a provincial agricultural
country, plagued by its technical backwardness and
deprived of friends in the outside world, I was able
to pass to the present republican government a first-
class European power well advanced in its indus-
trial development and enjoying an excellent stand-
ing on both sides of the Atlantic. It would appear
that I came out victorious in my struggle with para-
dox Number Four/'
Undoubtedly it would. But for that matter
neither had the Russia of the Czars suffered from
lack of foreign allies, friendly international mag-
nates and enterprising industrial geniuses. While
there is the World War to blame for the debacle of
my own country, I am naturally curious to learn
the name or the names of the Spanish villains. Why
should any nation revolt against a king as talented
[93]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
and as efficient as the man who sits facing me in this
narrow room of a provincial French hotel?
The facts communicated by him so far fail to ex-
plain the causes of the recent tragedy. Unlike Nich-
olas II, he ascended the throne fully prepared for
his royal responsibilities. Contrary to Wilhelm II,
he possessed a distaste for pose and a genius for con-
ciliation. And finally, the homogenous character of
the Spanish population spared him the troubles that
befell his Austrian relatives.
Having exhausted my repertory of all-explaining
parallels, I am obliged to ask the King a possibly
naive question:
"What are the principal factors that prepared the
revolutionary storm of April?"
His answer comes instantaneously:
"Thunder on the right and thunder on the left!"
"Which one of the two was the stronger?"
"It is the weaker one that caused the greater
damage. As is always the case, the extreme right
elements were not sufficiently well organized to
defeat the attack of their left adversaries, but they
possessed enough strength to embarrass the throne
and to deprive it of a possibility of reaching a com-
promise. Nothing new in this controversy for you,
Alexander. Very much like Russia, is it not?"
[94]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
Very much like Russia, indeed, with our ultra-
royalists too much engaged in plotting against the
court to pay any attention to the subterranean
preparations of the revolutionaries. I am about to
advance my argument as to the World War having
played a decisive part in the Russian Revolution,
when my host anticipates me by pointing at the
other war, the Spanish-Moroccan war of 1921-1924,
which in his estimation was largely responsible for
the "two thunders." This brings back memories of
Primo de Rivera's dictatorship.
"Volumes of lies have been written about the
relations between General Primo de Rivera and
me/' says the King. "The Spanish radicals accused
me of encouraging the brave General to seize power
in 1923. The imaginative magazine-writers exploited
the theme of the King-versus-the-Dictator-combat.
The high priests of constitutional law asked heaven
to bear witness to the fact that the King of Spain
had violated his oath to the Constitution. The rev-
olutionaries of all countries called me a crowned
fascist. I am afraid that we would have to go all the
way back to 1921 and the tragedy that befell the
Spanish army in Morocco, to reconstruct the correct
historical perspective.
"I grant you that you may find elements of drama
[95]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
in these ten pivotal years of my life, but I resent most
emphatically the attempts at making it look like
an old-fashioned hair-raising melodrama, with my-
self cast in the role of a shrewd calculating autocrat
who is using his generals and ministers like so many
pawns in a ruthless game of chess.
"I am well accustomed to being libeled. It is not
my habit to issue statements and denials. The
moment I left Madrid I promised myself to refuse
to be interviewed, and to answer all lies with silence.
To you, however, I will say this: I did not violate
my oath; I did not inspire in any manner, shape or
form the bloodless military coup organized by Primo
de Rivera and supported by the best element of the
Spanish army; I spent many sleepless nights think-
ing of every possible means to prevent a dictatorship
in Spain and the ensuing dissolution of Parliament.
I was not a calculating autocrat! When I tell you
the truth about the events that preceded General
Primo de Rivera's pronunciamento of September
i3th, 19253, you will understand that I was then, on
that tense September night eight years ago, and I
am now, in the year of our Lord 1931, simply a
son of Spain willing to make the supreme sacrifice
for the greater glory of his country!"
[96]
THE CORONATION. THE KING AND THE QUEEN ARE ABOUT
TO PROCEED TO THEIR PALACE.
KING ALFONSO HUNTING AT RAMBOUILLET IN COMPANY
OF THE PRESIDENT OF FRANCE. 1905.
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
4
ONCE again I am on my way to Fontainebleau,
His Catholic Majesty has promised to tell me today
the dolorous story of his last forty-eight hours in the
city that had for over twelve centuries been the
proud capital of his royal forbears.
Two feelings are vying with each other in my
heart while I drive through the half-awakened
streets of Paris, which resemble the scrubbed decks
of a battleship. As a conscientious reporter, mindful
of his self-imposed duties, I anticipate the thrilling
pathos of a supreme tragedy; as a man who sat side
by side with Czar Nicholas II during the excruci-
ating days of his abdication and parting from the
Army, I would much rather not disturb those mem-
ories. What worries me most of all is the realization
of the fact that, even though the King of Spain
escaped the fate of my late brother-in-law, he had
nevertheless to cover in just forty-eight hours that
same Calvary of anguish and despair which it took
the last ruler of Russia twenty-three years to ascend.
The lightning tempo of the Spanish upheaval makes
the Russian revolution appear like a landslide photo-
graphed by a slow-motion camera; but it remains,
[97]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
of course, a matter of opinion whether the contin-
uous clinging to a withered branch on the brink of
a precipice should be considered less horrible than a
stone-like fall to its bottom.
I try to brace up and forget the past. The morning
is clear and pleasant, but there is a rawness in the
air suggestive of the approach of bitter storms. The
roads to Fontainebleau are covered by a thick carpet
of yellow-and-red leaves. Yellow and red happen to
be the colors of both autumn and Spain, the royal
Spain of yesterday. If I am to believe the newspapers,
the Spain of today is leaning toward a solid red,
thus employing that self-same color-scheme of all
revolutions, which calls for a dreamy blue in the
prologue, relies upon a timid pink in Act One, and
floods the stage with streams of crimson at the cli-
max. A straight line leading from initial idealism
to final slaughter is the course charted by history
for each and every revolution.
The secular trees towering over the road to Fon-
tainebleau bear witness to the struggles of other
generations who expended their time and zeal and
sacrificed untold numbers of lives in an equally
impetuous desire to reach the ever-escaping star of
universal happiness. More than one flamboyant rev-
olutionary leader galloped through this majestic
[98]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
forest carrying the tremendous news o Liberty,
Equality and Fraternity to the four corners of
France; and more than one royal exile returned by
this spectacular highway, thinking that he who tries
to save his nation by attempting to change the
existing regime is merely prescribing death for ill-
ness. The firebrands of 1793, the bloodthirsty poets
of 1830, the fanatics who died on the barricades of
Paris in 1848, the communistic visionaries of 1871
they all slaughtered their brethren for the greater
glory of mankind, failing to bring us even an inch
closer to the ultimate solution of the problem of
contentment.
"Let each one sweep in front of his own door,
and the whole world will be clean." This was the
recipe for universal happiness written down a cen-
tury ago by dying Goethe in the album of the
youthful Sigmund von Arnim; and this is the very
simple though utterly impractical idea that crosses
my mind as I alight in front of the Hotel Savoy.
The sight of gold-braided porters busily engaged
in handling the baggage of visiting American tour-
ists brings me back to the realities of 1931. The
headline of a paper spread on the table in the lobby
advises me that "epochal results" are expected from
the coming international conference in Geneva.
[99]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
I go upstairs, present my respects to Her Majesty
the Queen, and escort the King to his study.
We sit and talk, exchanging our summer impres-
sions. He has spent his vacation in northern and
central Europe; and I can tell by the healthy tan on
his vivid face that the sea-voyage has helped restore
his physical strength undermined by the ordeal of
the previous April. His eyes seem shining with new
energy. He is pacing the floor of the small room
with brisk strides, a striking picture of a strong
young man anxious to get back to work and action.
His thoughts are in Spain more than ever. The
latest news from his country indicates at least a
temporary triumph of the radical elements over
the moderate leaders that headed the Spanish repub-
lican government in the beginning of the revolution.
This, however, causes him not nearly as much con-
cern as the general situation in Europe: several
weeks have passed since the day of our first meet-
ing on the soil of France, weeks marked by anxiety
and the shattering of the world's two greatest illu-
sions. His Brittanic Majesty's navy has gone on
strike, and a laconic statement issued by Number
Ten Downing Street has announced the demise of
the gold standard of the pound. The old continent
[100]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
is dangerously ill. It is running a high temperature
and is muttering incoherent phrases of sadly belated
regret.
The King dwells upon the events in England and
the external signs of acute economic depression no-
ticed by him throughout central Europe. Half-laugh-
ingly he tells of the reporters that pursued him
during his voyage, never tiring in their efforts to get
a "personal interview." It amazes him that practi-
cally none of those very experienced journalists dis-
played any ability to comprehend that the fate of
Spain depends in the long run not on the pronounce-
ments of its king or its republican government, but
on the outcome of the present world crisis.
"I wish the people would finally realize," he
exclaims with a mixture of impatience and sorrow,
"that from the very beginning of the Spanish politi-
cal crisis, which dates some twelve years back, my
country has suffered the unavoidable consequences
of a grave condition which originated far beyond
its borders! At first it was the famous Armistice
madness that spelled revolutions, strikes and riots.
Then we were called upon to pay our share of the
price exacted from the world-at-large by the exi-
gencies of the economic readjustment. Everybody,
Alexander, has paid, and is still paying, for the late
[10!]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
war, the neutral nations as well as the belligerent
ones. No mountains were high enough and no ocean
was sufficiently wide to protect a nation against the
onrush of the post-war calamities. The United
States, the South American republics, the British
dominions, each and every country under the sun
was given a grim lesson in solidarity! It would take
a person very nai've indeed to imagine that a mere
king could have fought single-handed against the
forces of destruction unchained by the war. Were I
to live these past twelve years anew, I doubt whether
I would be capable of finding a program of action
differing from that which I followed in 1919-1931.
"I am going to give you a brief outline of the
main political events that took place in my country
since the day of the Armistice, and I shall leave it
to you to decide as to what was right and what was
wrong in the policies of the Throne of Spain/'
WHILE listening to the King's speech, I can not
help thinking that at least a half-score of the present
leaders of great democracies would have good rea-
son to sympathize whole-heartedly with the Spanish
sovereign. For one thing, President Hoover would
be justified in recalling to his disgruntled fellow-
citizens that "no ocean is sufficiently wide" to save
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
a nation from getting its grim lesson in solidarity
with the suffering world.
The King commences his story with the "cannon
of the Armistice" a clarion call of a new Joy which
turned out to be the signal of an approaching Flood.
While shrewd calculating statesmen, true to their
habit of decorous deceit, are bargaining around
the oblong table in Versailles, the nations repre-
sented by them emphatically refuse to return to
the former routine of life. The younger generation
vaguely feels that it has been "done in" by its elders.
Partly inspired by their own just resentment, and
partly goaded on by the communistic propaganda
of Moscow, they are willing to listen only to the
prophets of "direct action." A wave of political
unrest rolls over the belligerent countries. When
it reaches the neutral ones, it stirs up the workers,
who had been accustomed to exaggerated wages
during the four fabulous years of inflated prosperity,
and who find it impossible to adjust their newly
developed tastes to the scale of prices which pre-
vailed before 1914. The three neutral kingdoms of
Scandinavia are able to wade through that extremely
dangerous period, thanks to the coolness of their
national temperament; but in Spain the unrest
attains the proportions of a veritable catastrophe.
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
A perennial desire for a radical change of the
existing regime seems to be in the very marrow of
the Latin race; not unlike their Italian cousins,
who have seized factories and mills in Turin and
Milan, the workers of Barcelona create a state of
complete anarchy in no time. They are headed by a
formidable organization known as the "Sindicado
Unico/' which combines an arch-communistic pro-
gram with the methods of the Mafia and the Black
Hand,
"A FEW statistics will suffice," says the King. "Dur-
ing the year of 1921 alone, three hundred and
twenty-seven employers of labor in Barcelona, and
one hundred and sixty-seven workers who would
not bow to the dictates of the Sindicado Unico,
were assassinated by its agents. The same fate befell
the eighty-year-old Cardinal Soldeville y Romero,
the Archbishop of Saragossa, and my capable Prime
Minister Dato. For the next two years it looked as
though no government at all existed in Spain. Anar-
chy reigned supreme. As a constitutional king, I
had to follow the decisions of Parliament; I regret
to say that the persons chosen by Parliament to
head the government were lacking both in courage
and in ability.
[104]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
"While my army was engaged in fighting the
native bandits in Morocco, the ministers intrigued
and the parliamentarians talked. Everybody in the
outside world knows about the disaster that befell
my army in Mellila in the summer of 1951; but
very few people are aware of the fact that Parliament
had been directly responsible for that disaster, hav-
ing refused to vote the necessary military credits.
The foreign editorial writers, so fond of blaming
the throne of Spain for the defeat of the Spanish
army rarely mention the revolting fact that no mu-
nitions had been supplied by the Spanish Govern-
ment to its officers and soldiers, who had to die in
Morocco because the World War had discredited
the white man in the eyes of the natives and led the
Moroccan bandits to believe that the time was ripe
to get rid of the foreign conquerors.
"What I am trying to explain to you is this: the
Moroccan war was forced upon Spain by circum-
stances which were not of our making, while our
initial defeat should be credited to the same poli-
ticians who afterward said that the King of Spain
had broken his oath to the Constitution. I can blame
myself for just one thing: I was too much of a con-
stitutional King in the years of the after-war anarchy.
Had I been willing to ignore the voice of Parlia-
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
ment, Spain would have been spared both the humil-
iation in Morocco and the ensuing dictatorship at
home. As it was, I was firm in my determination to
keep my oath and to remain a strictly constitutional
monarch."
HE stops, lights a new cigarette. His jaw is firmly
set, his eyes aglow with indignation. This dispute
as to whether he has kept or broken his oath to the
Constitution may appear somewhat theoretical to
outsiders; but to him it is a question of vital impor-
tance. He wants to prove that no matter how his
heart bled and his common sense revolted, he has
kept aloof from the political strife and was ready to
tolerate Parliament as long as it had the support of
the people. Only those who have lived in the atmos-
phere of a palace, and in proximity to a man
regarded as a near-god by popular fancy, can esti-
mate the depth of his anguish. To be obliged always
to remain on the sidelines and to watch the tobog-
gan-slide of one's own country in helpless sorrow
I know of no more cruel torture.
After a short pause, the King continues his de-
scription of the years of anarchy that followed the
Armistice madness and the Moroccan war.
[106!
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
"In 1931-1923 the Spanish Government failed
the Nation, while the Spanish Parliament failed the
Army. Such was the only logical conclusion to be
drawn by any unbiased observer. I need not tell you
of the indignation of the generals, officers and sol-
diers. Returning home from Morocco, they minced
no words in denouncing the politicians. Not versed
in the intricacies of constitutional law, they looked
with amazement in the direction of the royal
palace. What was the matter with their King? He
was supposed to be their friend, and yet he had toler-
ated a parliament that voted down military credits.
He was the ruler of Spain, and yet he had permitted
the anarchist murderers of Barcelona to escape thus
far unpunished.
"What could I have answered to my warriors?
Reduced to inactivity, I was likewise bound by
still another constitutional obligation of mine
that which expected the throne to keep a glorified
silence and make no speeches except the ones pre-
pared by the ministers. The latter thought I should
take their part and order a severe chastisement of
the patriotic generals. It was unbearable. Things
were going from bad to worse. By late summer of
1 923 the relations between the Army on one side and
the Government and Parliament on the other had
[107]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
reached a state of open conflict. I continued to listen
to all and to keep a strict neutrality.
"!N September I left for San Sebastian, where
society and members of the diplomatic corps usually
spent their vacations, Mr. Alexander Moore, then
the Ambassador of the United States in Spain,
accompanied me. He felt greatly concerned about
the political situation in Madrid, and generously
volunteered his advice, disclosing a profound knowl-
edge of American politics which have little, if any-
thing, in common with the procedure followed by
the Spanish Parliament.
"Late at night on September isth, I received the
sensational news of the coup d'etat organized by the
military governor of Barcelona, General Primo de
Rivera. Announcing his decision to restore order
in Spain, the General referred in his pronuncia-
mento posted in the streets of Barcelona to 'the
immorality of the Government, its disastrous Mo-
roccan policy and its abandonment of public author-
ity/ He was particularly harsh in denouncing the
Minister of Foreign Affairs, Senor Santiago Alba,
who happened to be on that night a guest in my
Miramar Palace in San Sebastian. Later on Senor
Alba claimed that I was all the time aware of the
[108]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
preparations made in Barcelona, and that I had
invited him to San Sebastian so as to deprive the
Madrid Government of his valuable advice. I need
not answer this childish accusation.
"During the night I received numerous telegrams
from Madrid and from abroad. It appeared that my
ambassadors in Paris, London and Rome were
informed by General de Rivera of his program,
which was expressed by the straightforward General
in the following terms: 'Peace is our motto, but
peace founded on dignity abroad and salutary
severity at home/ Sitting in San Sebastian, it was
difficult to decide whether General de Rivera was
right in his claims that the whole Army was in back
of him, or whether the Madrid Government was
nearer the truth when it described his movement as
a ridiculous attempt by an uncouth soldier.
"Next morning I left for Madrid. Ambassador
Moore traveled with me. This excellent man became
obviously agitated, it being his first experience with
a Spanish revolution. He produced a diminutive
automatic pistol and said that if it came to the worst,
he would place both his life and his gun at my dis-
posal. I thanked him for this magnificent offer, but
begged him to put the deadly weapon back in his
hip pocket.
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
"Immediately on my arrival in Madrid I became
submerged in a pool of contradictory rumors. Prime
Minister Alhucemas thought I should declare Gen-
eral de Rivera an enemy of the people. As a speech
it sounded extremely firm. As a practical measure
it meant nothing. In the presence of all the minis-
ters I asked Alhucemas a point-blank question: 'Con-
sidering the present mood of the Army, can you
guarantee to restore order in Spain and protect the
Crown and the Government? He answered that he
could not guarantee a thing but General de Rivera
should be court-martialed anyway!
"While we sat in endless conference, the news was
brought in that even the Madrid generals were
adhering to the Barcelona governor's movement.
Simultaneously General de Rivera sent me a tele-
gram guaranteeing the maintenance of civil order,
loyalty to the Crown, and the restitution of all con-
stitutional liberties as soon as the anarchy was sup-
pressed. The last line of his telegram read: "Long
live the King, long live Spain, long live the Army'
"It became clear to me that the choice between
Alhucemas and General de Rivera amounted to
choosing between a certain debacle and possible sal-
vation. I wired General de Rivera to come to Madrid
at once. The ministers said that I was breaking my
[no]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
oath to the Constitution, but the outside world
answered the news of General de Rivera's triumph
by marking up the quotations of the peseta and of
all Spanish securities.
"This is the whole of the story of my so-called
participation in the coup d'etat of General Primo
de Rivera. It differs, no doubt, from that very pop-
ular version which tends to represent me as a perfidi-
ous Bourbon, outwitting the innocent ministers of
Spain, but real facts somehow have a peculiar charm
of their own."
The King shrugs his shoulders and looks faintly
amused. Thirty years on the throne have developed
in him an extreme leniency toward the imagination
of excitable "eyewitnesses." The subject he is about
to broach will put his impartiality to an acid test:
so much has been written on both sides of the
Atlantic of the alleged jealousy between the King
and the Dictator that I am curious to hear his
appraisal of Primo de Rivera's personality.
"General de Rivera was a military man, first and
last/' he begins, weighing each one of his words.
"He possessed all the qualities and all the limitations
of a career-officer raised in the army. Perfect honesty
and a complete absence of egotistical purposes were
his two outstanding virtues. The figure of a fine dis-
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
ciplinarian he presented, making a religion of duty,
will remain forever a striking and a lonely contrast
against a background made by dense crowds of hus-
tling and jostling masters of intrigue. As a politician,
the General was a pure improvisation built up with
the aid of his enormous adaptability and his knack of
getting down to the substance of things. A man of
no particular culture, he was obliged to rely upon
his natural intelligence, which circumstance proved
beneficial, in many instances protecting his judg-
ment from the influence of prejudices invariably
imposed by all schools of thought and all systems
of mental training.
"A champion of common sense, he succeeded in
pleasing the nation as long as the distasteful mem-
ories of ever-talking Parliament stayed fresh in the
mind of the man-in-the-street. Having had no exper-
ience, however, in the art of keeping the voters
excited, he overestimated the longevity of the appeal
to common sense. Toward the end it suddenly
dawned on him that the people were interested not
only in constructive achievements but likewise in
a semblance of free public opinion provided by
Parliament. Just as he was about to propose a new
set of legislative reforms, he discovered for himself
that the nation had become tired of him. He was a
[us]
THE KING AND THE QUEEN PHOTOGRAPHED ON THE DAY
OF THEIR CORONATION.
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
man who had stayed too long! In his desire to build
a powerful Spain, he showed no patience in deal-
ing with the demagogues. I suppose he did make a
few mistakes, insignificant from the point of view of
the welfare of Spain, but fatal for his standing with
the masses.
"I WOULD like to remember General Primo de
Rivera as an unselfish administrator who did things
and promoted the progress of the country. During
his regime civil order had been restored, five thou-
sand new public schools opened, thousands of
miles of highways built, and most remarkable
achievement of all the budget of the kingdom bal-
anced for the first time in over fifty years. His sincere
willingness to cooperate with France combined with
my old pro-French sympathies made it possible for
us to pacify Morocco, working hand in hand with
the army of the Gallic republic. This in turn created
new possibilities for Spanish foreign trade and the
Spanish merchants.
"It would not be an exaggeration to say that in
the six years of Primo de Rivera's regime, Spain
had made a step forward which under ordinary cir-
cumstances would have taken at least twenty years.
For the first time since the era of the Napoleonic
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
wars, the country had been spared the handicaps im-
posed by political unrest and the slowness of a par-
liamentarian mechanism. It is rather significant that
the end of this highly beneficial regime coincided
with the commencement of an acute European eco-
nomic crisis. In other words, once more Spain had to
suffer for other people's blunders, and once more its
unceremonious politicians were to exploit an inter-
national calamity for the sake of their own glorifi-
cation.
"Primo de Rivera came to power because the
nation revolted against the demagogues. Primo de
Rivera had to quit because the nation, having recov-
ered its breath, was growing restless without its
demagogues. His success was made possible by a six-
year period of comparative prosperity of the world.
His failure was precipitated by the wave of a general
depression. While the business men prospered and
the workers were employed, all good things were
credited to General de Rivera and to the absence of
Parliament. The moment the merchants encoun-
tered the unbreakable wall of the world crisis, and
the laborers had to cope with the slackening tempo
of production, all calamities were laid at the door of
the selfsame dictator, and a cry was raised for the
convocation of a Parliament.
C4]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FQNTAINEBLEAU
"This explanation may not sound very logical,
for the simple reason that no trace of logic is ever
to be discerned in the emotional fits governing the
actions of the masses. It usually takes a historian liv-
ing many years afterward to substitute scientific
formulae for shouts and yells. I expect that my
grandchildren will read a much more coherent story
of Primo de Rivera's rise and fall than that which I
witnessed with my own eyes."
The King talks like a practical philosopher. He
does not mean to be sarcastic. He is simply striving
to keep off the beaten track of hackneyed all-explain-
ing theories. No man could remain in a royal pal-
ace as long as he did, without acquiring the habit of
looking slightly above the heads of his contempo-
raries. The royal profession is a school of tolerance.
A king in exile learns to forget nothing and forgive
almost everything. There is no bitterness in his
heart. Just pure undiluted pity. We both know
without telling it to each other in so many words
that, not unlike a babbling infant, a nation dearly
loves to play with matches.
A MOMENT of silence ensues, with his thoughts in
Spain, mine in Russia; then the King proceeds with
his description of the last act of the Spanish tragedy.
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
"It would have taken a much greater thinker than
General Primo de Rivera to recognize that the
march o world events had made the further applica-
tion of his methods impossible and that his resigna-
tion was imperative. The poor General quit with
a broken heart. Astounded by the ingratitude of the
people, he left for Paris, and died shortly afterward.
"Another general, Damaso Berenguer, was called
to replace the fallen dictator. You may ask why I
chose still another soldier. Because only an outsider
free from political entanglements and party alle-
giances could be entrusted with the execution of a
great national program that included the prepara-
tions for general elections. The Army trusted Gen-
eral Berenguer; and in such trying times, no govern-
ment could succeed unless supported by the best ele-
ments of the Army. Do not forget that until the very
last day I trusted my Army implicitly. I called myself
'the first soldier of Spain/ and would never have
believed, not even for a second, that my officers and
soldiers could break the ties of our lifelong friend-
ship and cooperation.
"General Berenguer was not a miracle-worker.
He tried his best, but the best of a Spanish general
was obviously not sufficiently good to bring back
financial prosperity while the entire world was still
[116]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
ailing. The depression continued in Spain as much
as in England, Germany and the United States.
More workers were discharged by the shutting-down
of industries, and fewer customers entered the
deserted shops of the Spanish merchants. Detailed
statistics and profound economic discourses were
never able to appease the anger of a suffering nation.
People believe in panaceas, and in moments of dis-
tress they are likely to turn to magicians and political
mountebanks. Long before General Berenguer had
a chance to do the groundwork for his reforms, the
Spanish nation deprived him of their confidence/*
"People believe in panaceas." To me these words
sound rather American. . . . Unless I am very
much mistaken, the present master of the White
House used a similar phrase in his Valley Forge
speech. I am quite certain, in any event, that, not un-
like my august host, the President of the United
States has learned to his dismay that "detailed statis-
tics and profound economic discourses were never
able to appease the anger of a suffering nation" and
that "in moments of distress people are likely to turn
to the magicians and political mountebanks." Had it
not been for the latter characteristics of all nations
stricken by an economic crisis, the American busi-
ness men would hardly have displayed their present
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
exaggerated interest in the "achievements" o the
Soviet Union and would have realized that no unem-
ployment exists today in Russia for the same simple
reason that no colored slaves were ever known to
be out of jobs even in the leanest years of the Louisi-
ana plantations.
The King continues: "Statesmen of wisdom and
friends of proven sincerity told me that the govern-
ment of Berenguer would not be able to last till
the elections and that immediate "radical changes"
were imperative. By that time, I confess I was feeling
weary of generalities and platitudes. The expression
"radical changes" contained no practical advice. If
the people were dissatisfied with Berenguer, there
should be someone else capable of pleasing
them. . . .
"In February 1931 I came to the conclusion that
a chance should be given to that political party
which had advocated the convocation of a parliament
invested with the extraordinary powers of making
changes in the Constitution and prosecuting the
allegedly guilty members of the former cabinets.
Therefore I invited two leaders of the radical party,
Sanchez Guerra and Melquiades Alvarez to come
to my Palace. I explained to them that according
to my understanding of the duties of a constitutional
[n8]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FQNTAINEBLEAU
monarch I should propose to them the forming of a
government. Both gentlemen praised my 'loyalty to
the people* and my sincere patriotism, but at the
same time declined the task. For reasons too obvious
to warrant an explanation, they preferred to remain
the chiefs of the irresponsible opposition rather
than the heads of a government entrusted with the
salvation of the country!
"Had it been my first experience with the elo-
quent champions of the common people, I would
have been frightfully indignant. As it was, I smiled
a rather knowing smile. The leaders of other par-
ties, to whom I communicated this decision of
Senores Sanchez Guerra and Melquiades Alvarez,
expressed no surprise whatsoever. Politics was always
like this, they said gravely, and suggested my form-
ing a coalition cabinet. I agreed at once, distributing
the portfolios between the chiefs of several different
parties. Following their advice, Admiral Aznar, a
man respected by all parties, was made Prime Minis-
ter. The program of the new cabinet emphasized
the economic problems and promised to hold muni-
cipal and legislative elections at an early date.
"Everybody predicted glorious success for the
coalition government. The English newspapers
referred to me as a 'master politician of the world/
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
The population of Madrid gave me a vociferous
ovation. The Queen, returning from London, was
met by a reception seldom if ever accorded any liv-
ing sovereign. The people shouted with joy at seeing
her again; they threw flowers at her feet; they
grasped and kissed her hands, and they sang songs
glorifying the reigning house. All this took place in
the month of February, 1931 that is to say, barely
two months before the final upheaval.
"I AM certain that even the most rabid revolution-
aries believed at that time in the absolute security
of the throne. It could not have been otherwise. The
new government fulfilled each one of its promises.
It arranged the release of the imprisoned republi-
can leaders. It granted a pardon to an army captain
who had headed the revolt in the fortress of Jaca.
It succeeded in obtaining an important loan in the
United States, making the coming stabilization of
the peseta possible. It gave its unreserved attention
to the organization of the relief for the unemployed.
And it finally set the date for the municipal elec-
tions on April isth, a rapidity that caused a complete
surprise to the republicans.
"My ministers and I were equally aware of the
importance of these elections. For the first time in
[120]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
almost ten years the Spanish nation was going to
express its political preferences. In order to be sure
of the popular feeling, all measures had been taken
to guarantee the unhindered freedom of the voters'
choice. The throne was prepared to bow before the
judgment of the people.
"On the evening of Sunday, April the isth, I sat
in my palace in Madrid waiting to hear the verdict.
I realized the important part to be played by the
grievances of the workers and merchants, and I
expected to see the triumph of the extreme left
parties in the large centers. I did not doubt, however,
that the pro-governmental vote of the rural dis-
tricts of Spain would be quite sufficient to overrule
the cities.
"Shortly before midnight I learned the bitter
truth. Nearly seventy per cent of my subjects had
voted a straight republican ticket. I can not say that
I was the most surprised man in Spain. My astonish-
ment was mild compared to that of the republican
leaders! The biggest optimists among them counted
on carrying from twenty-five to thirty per cent of the
seats instead of which they suddenly found them-
selves in possession of an overwhelming majority. As
for myself, I felt like a man calling on an old friend
and anticipating the pleasure of a cheerful evening,
[121]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
only to discover that his friend has just passed
away."
The King is calm and cooL Even now when his
narrative is approaching the last forty-eight hours
spent by him on the soil of Spain, he is able to
maintain the poise of a philosopher.
"THERE was not a moment to be wasted," contin-
ues the King. "The results of the elections showed
that I had lost, at least temporarily, my people's
love. While I still had ample means at my disposal to
protect the prerogatives of the throne, I had no
intention of using them: I never considered myself
infallible! No matter what was going to happen to
me personally, I wanted to prevent bloodshed at
all cost.
"In the early morning of Monday, April the igth,
I called in my ministers to discuss the situation.
Count Romanones, my Minister of Foreign Affairs,
had spent a night haunted by a peculiar dream; it
seemed to him he was suddenly transported to Rus-
sia in 1917 and made witness of the frightful end
that befell the Czar and his family. He begged me to
leave Spain at once. He predicted the possibility of
an ugly outburst on the part of the triumphant
revolutionaries. He doubted the loyalty of the Army.
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
"I was obliged to remind Count Romanones of
the answer given by me in 1905 to the French Presi-
dent Loubet, right after we both had escaped the
bomb of a terrorist: 'Such are the risks of the Royal
trade.' I love life as much as anyone else, but as a king
I had to think of my country above all. I visualized
the dangers inevitably accompanying all changes of
regime, and I wanted to make one more effort to
save Spain from a catastrophe. Inasmuch as my peo-
ple had voted for the republicans, I thought I should
have a talk with the leaders of the triumphant par-
ty. Seiior Zamora, the future president of the Span-
ish Republican Government, was invited by me to
the palace and received my offer to form a cabinet.
He said no. The wine of victory had gone to his
head.
"At five o'clock in the afternoon of Tuesday,
April the i4th, I bade good-by to my ministers.
Half an hour later Miguel Maura, a man of consid-
erable showmanship, proclaimed the Republic in
his speech delivered from the balcony of the City
HalL At nine o'clock that night Admiral Rivera
brought three powerful automobiles to the palace
door. It had been decided that I would motor to the
port of Cartagena, where a battle-cruiser would wait
to take me to France. My wife and children were
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
to leave by train the next morning, the Republican
Government having guaranteed their safety.
"!T is an eight-hour ride from Madrid to Carta-
gena. My faithful collaborator the Duke of Miranda,
and my cousin Alphonse de Bourbon accompanied
me in one of the three automobiles; the other two
were occupied by Admiral Rivera, a few loyal offi-
cers, my valet and my hand-baggage. We drove at
an average speed of sixty miles per hour. While
passing through towns and villages, I heard the
shouts of celebrating crowds; but the night was
pitch-dark, and I could not discern those fields and
groves of Spain that I had known for forty-five
years. I was worried about my wife and children. I
hoped to God the republicans would be able to keep
their word. Otherwise I felt a deep moral satisfac-
tion at having prevented the calamity of a civil war.
All during that night just one thought possessed
my mind: 'It is better to go into exile than to be
responsible for bloodshed/
"At four o'clock in the morning we arrived at
the port of Cartagena and were met by Admiral
Magar, commander of the local naval arsenal. He
and his staff seemed crestfallen at this sudden turn of
events. They talked to me in hoarse whispers, break-
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
ing down with emotion. Shaking hands with them, I
said: 'Gentlemen, I have preserved my traditions
intact. Long live Spain!* A few minutes later I was
aboard the cruiser Principe Alfonso, and we weighed
anchor for Marseilles. The lights of the shore, pale
in the dense fog of dawn, grew dimmer. The com-
mander asked me what ensign he should hoist on
the mast- Under ordinary circumstances he would
of course have raised the Royal standard. To pro-
tect him from the rancor of the Republican Govern-
ment, I advised him to hoist the national flag of
Spain. Then I went to my cabin. Anticipating a
manifestation of the idle curiosity of the world, I
gave orders riot to answer any radios from shore.
And well I did! Hardly had we cleared port, when
the messages began to pour in: the American corre-
spondents wanted to know all about my plans and
my destination; one of them suggested my answering
a long questionnaire. ... I had to laugh. There I
was, exhausted by three sleepless nights and living
through the darkest hours of my life, and they
expected me to give them a short outline of world
history! When an hour passed, bringing no answer
to their radios, they informed their newspapers that
our cruiser was evidently 'lost' somewhere in the
Mediterranean.
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
"We reached Marseilles before dawn on Thurs-
day, April the i6th, several hours earlier than was
expected by the French authorities. The port was
deserted, and it took my valet quite a time to find
a taxi. Just as I was about to drive away, a young
man stepped out of the darkness and said 'Your Maj-
esty, would you grant me a short interview? I repre-
sent . . .
"My dear fellow/' I interrupted him, "try to be
kind even if it hurts you and leave me alone/' My
voice must have carried a certain amount of per-
suasion, because he bowed and stepped aside. Three
hours later I met him again at the railroad station,
at the head of an army of reporters. Fortunately,
by that time the French had the situation well in
hand. ... It was while answering the queries of
the French Admiral Jaubert in Marseilles that I
said: "You are surprised to see me here? You want
to know how it all happened? Well, Admiral, it is
much more difficult to fulfill one's civic duty than
to charge a crowd at the head of a squadron of cav-
alry/ 1 It was before leaving Marseilles for Paris that
I issued a manifesto explaining that my departure
from Spain should in no way be construed as an
abdication. The months that have passed since that
day have failed to alter my feelings in that respect. I
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
still maintain that I have voluntarily ceased to exer-
cise my authority, and that I shall wait for future
developments. My love for Spain alone dictated
that decision, and I hope to God that all other Span-
iards now and in years to come will hear the call of
duty as clearly as I have. . . . "
"AFTER the present world crisis, what? Will Eur-
ope be able to return to economic sanity? will the
Monroe Doctrine prove as effective in saving the
Americas from the far-reaching claws of Bolshevism
as it has been in protecting their sovereignty against
the threats of the Nineteenth Century European
powers? Right now I know of no other question of
equal importance."
These questions interest the King as we talk of
the future: his own, his children's, that of his coun-
try smoldering in its revolution and that of the
world at large.
The King feels restless and tells me he does not
at all enjoy the "freedom" of which all monarchs
are in the habit of dreaming. After thirty years
spent in constant fulfillment of rigorous duties, he
finds it irksome to idle his days away. Otherwise he
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
has no complaint to make. Of course we both are
aware of the gigantic campaign of calumny launched
against him by the Spanish revolutionaries, but
striving as I am, I cannot discern the slightest trace
of anger in his finely shaped face, so detached and
so typically Bourbonesque in moments of repose.
He realizes that he is approaching the crucial turn
in the life of a royal exile, obliged to maintain unin-
terrupted silence while the foulest libels are being
spread abroad; and that very knowledge makes him
straighten up to the full height of his moral stature.
He is willing to face this new danger in the way a
King and Christian should pitying his ruthless
aggressors, and trying to condone their actions.
"Do you remember, Alexander/' he asks me with
a slight smile, "that old venerable legend about a
queer creature that was born with the divine head
of an angel and the loathsome body of a monster?
As you no doubt recall, so extremely fascinating were
its facial features, that not until a year had gone by
did anyone notice its hairy limbs, its shapeless mas-
sive breast and its hooflike feet. And then its beauti-
ful face suddenly commenced to acquire a new and
savage expression, and everybody raised the cry, 'A
monster!' I say the revelation came at the end of the
first year; but for all I really know, it may have taken
[1*8]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
an even longer period. It seems to me that you
Russians have had quite an experience mistaking
monsters for angels. . . . How long did it take your
people to recognize their frightful mistake?"
I can see the half-sarcastic, half-romantic gist of
his parallel between a revolution and a monster;
but this does not make it easier for me to answer
his question.
"Some of the Russians/' I finally reply with a sigh,
"noticed the hoofs the very first day of our revolu-
tion; but others are still hypnotized by what is
left of the divine light in the monster's eyes."
"Just what I thought," comments the King; "ap-
parently it all depends on the viciousness of the mon-
ster and the gullibility of the people. In any event, I
am extremely fond of this legend, and I do think it
is an excellent symbol of the present Spanish revolu-
tion. In the beginning the latter was referred to by
everybody as the 'elegant revolution/ but very soon
hundreds of lives were sacrificed in senseless riots
and religious brawls. At this date, after but a few
short months of sway, the 'elegant revolution' is
responsible for a much greater number of deaths
than the thirty years of my reign. It stands to reason
that the Spanish people are now likely to raise the
cry, 'A monster/ any day.
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
"What is there left for the revolutionary leaders
to do in order to justify their inability to keep their
promises of 'immediate happiness for air? Just one
thing: they must find a scapegoat whom they can
blame for the misfortunes brought by their rule.
Hence the present outburst of calumnies and hatred
against the King of Spain. Hence the Republican
Parliament's decision to sit as a self-styled supreme
tribunal to judge my imaginary crimes. This dis-
graceful comedy at the same time provides the revo-
lutionaries with an excuse for the confiscation of
my personal property in Spain. If this only could
help the Spanish people, I would have nothing to
say and no complaint to make/'
The King is obviously not in a mood to discuss
his financial affairs at any greater length. In his esti-
mation any grievances he may have against the Span-
ish revolutionary government are rather insignifi-
cant, compared with the vast problems occupying his
mind. The subject is painful, but I venture to press
him for more details. The American and the Euro-
pean papers almost daily dedicate considerable
space to the idle discussion of the "millions amassed
and lost by the King of Spain." It seems to me his
own statement would help to settle this matter once
and forever.
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
The King explains that persons keenly interested
in counting other people's money do not under-
stand the difference between the property of the
Crown of Spain and that of the King. While each
and every revolutionary government invariably
takes possession of the palaces, lands and museums
belonging to the Crown it replaces, only the Russian
bolsheviks so far have appropriated the personal
estates of the former Monarch and his relatives. The
present French Republic (established in 1871)
never attempted to confiscate that which belonged to
the members of the Bourbon, the Orleans, the Guise
and the Bonaparte families. The German Republic
paid a huge sum of money to the former Kaiser
for hjs estates sequestered by the Reich. The Portu-
guese Republic made a similar settlement with form*
er King Manuel. In fact, it became almost an un-
written law governing the relations between a fallen
sovereign and the triumphant revolutionaries, that
the former be given the choice of either continuing
to hold or selling his possessions. That is why the
attitude taken by the revolutionary government of
Spain bewilders not only the King himself, but like-
wise all the legal experts in historical precedent.
"Everything that I possess in Spain/' says the
King, "has been either inherited by me from my
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
grandmother and mother, or purchased with my
own funds. Most of my estates were never run on a
profit-making basis; they represent valuable histor-
ical monuments which I tried to preserve for future
generations.
"When my mother, Queen Maria-Christina,
bought the Miramar Palace in St. Sebastian, it was
just a cottage. She spent a great deal of money, time
and perseverance in erecting the buildings, which
today attract universal admiration. My palace of
Santander, situated on the spot where I used to hold
the annual regatta, although presented to me by the
city, was rebuilt and redecorated entirely out of my
own funds. The same condition exists in regard to
my Barcelona palace.
"I CAN not understand what law can give the
Republican Government power to confiscate my
personal estates. So long as the institution of private
property continues to exist in Spain, I should be
accorded by the Government the same rights and
protection as any other Spaniard. As far as the sei-
zure of my bank-accounts and securities is concerned,
no comment is necessary: the Republican Govern-
ment is well aware of having committed a glaring
infringement of my rights. It could think of no other
Wide World photo
KING ALFONSO WINNING A TENNIS CHAMPIONSHIP.
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
way o explaining its illegal actions except ordering
the newspapers to attack my character and record.
"What can I say? No king can qualify for his job
unless prepared to endure the ingratitude of his
people. My life is an open book; it can be read by
any man, Spaniard or other, who is capable of dis-
tinguishing real facts from the libelous products of
a malicious mind. I do not care to repeat those vile
accusations. I am quite certain that you and everyone
else have read them in the newspapers, both here
and in America. A day does not pass without this
or that foreign journalist getting Fontainebleau on
the wire and demanding to know what I have to
say in reply to the calumnies of the unscrupulous
politicians, I have nothing to say, now or at any
future time/'
While he speaks, coolly and reservedly, some of
the clippings shown to me in Fontainebleau and
Paris come to my mind. The contemptible mud-
throwers have used every low trick and every das-
tardly invention to revile the character of the man
who forsook his kingdom in order to spare his peo-
ple the calamity of a civil war. The Madrid corre-
spondent of a Porto Rican paper advised his far-away
readers that, according to the "latest discoveries,"
the King of Spain was not the son of King Alfonso
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
XII, but an illegitimate child of Queen Maria-Chris-
tina by her paramour, a well-known leader of the
Spanish revolutionaries. . . . The Paris correspond-
ent of an American newspaper, having exhausted
his repertory of calumnies about the King himself,
deemed it in good taste to invent a tale of some "un-
foreseen complications" keeping the two daughters
of the King from marrying their fiances. . . . Half
a score of Madrid newspapers announced in bold
type that the King was in the habit of "squandering
the people's money," but they failed to provide any
documents or other proofs to substantiate their
accusations.
There is nothing more repelling than the spec-
tacle of a crowd of cowards attacking the man whose
favors they were soliciting but yesterday. My heart
goes out to the King. I need not tell him of my sym-
pathy. He knows what my relatives and I have gone
through: for one solid year after the Russian
debacle, no publisher considered his "revolutionary
duty" fulfilled unless his paper contained daily sev-
eral columns of the vilest lies about the House of
the Romanoffs. Looking at the horrible Porto Rican
clipping, I cannot help recalling how one gray
morning of 1917 I woke up to discover that my
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
ancestor Peter the Great was nothing more than a
degenerate,
As though reading my thoughts, the King remarks
philosophically:
"It is as it should have been expected. Through-
out the ages the masters of libel were guided in
their doings by the old French saying: 'Calomniez,
calomniez il en restera toujours quelque chose/
('Go on and libel some of it is bound to strike
home/) All of them are hoping that at least a few
listeners will be ignorant enough to believe their
inventions. Humans will be humans, and the bread
of exile will forever retain its bitter taste. Let us
not talk about it any more. I repeat, nothing can
make me happier than to see the welfare of the
Spanish people bought at the price of my personal
sacrifices/'
The King commences to talk about his children.
Unlike the Queen, who is extremely worried about
their future, he believes that they will make their
own way in life.
He has just placed his youngest boy in the Uni-
versity of Louvain in Belgium, and he is looking
forward to seeing the fiances of his two daughters
graduate from an engineering school in Switzerland.
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
I no new developments take place in the mean-
while in Spain, he is willing to let his youngsters
try their luck in America.
As to his own personal plans, he prefers to main-
tain a policy of "watchful waiting/' He has read the
newspaper tales of the "fabulous bank-accounts" he
is supposed to have in England and the United
States, but he does not wish to break the hearts of
the editors by asking them to take several ciphers
off the figures mentioned in their publications.
"Fortunately," he exclaims laughingly, "I do not
have to consult the newspapers in making my plans
for the future. Otherwise I would be in a complete
quandary as to which particular 'special dispatch*
of an unusually well-informed correspondent should
guide my decision. Within one single week I was re-
ported as having bought a castle in France, a palace
in Czecho-Slovakia, a farm in Argentina, a villa in
California, a shooting-lodge in Scotland, and a mam-
moth town house in London. It would appear as
though I were doing quite a bit of purchasing and
were bent on spending the balance of my life aboard
a steamer running back and forth between Europe
and the two Americas.
"You realize, of course, that all of these rumors
owe their origin to the untamed imaginations of
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
the correspondents. The truth is much simpler, and
covers considerably less mileage. I have not decided
as yet as to where I shall spend most of my time. I
have not abdicated my throne, and in consequence
all my plans depend on the future developments in
Spain. So far, I am quite comfortable right where I
am. I am being treated by the French people with
the utmost courtesy and touching friendliness. I
see no reason why I should be in a hurry to leave
this beautiful and hospitable country."
"But how about your desire to visit the United
States?" I ask the King. "I feel certain that you
would be received over there with equal friendli-
ness. I do not have to tell you of your popularity
with the Americans. Not so long ago a California
paper said that the local Chamber of Commerce
should take "energetic steps' to persuade you to
come to the Olympic games in Los Angeles."
The King laughs, and looks through the window
half -dreamily.
"No particular energy is necessary to persuade
me to visit California. I have for a great many years
hoped to do it. The only reason that keeps me from
starting for America right at this moment is my
determination not to do anything that might embar-
rass the present Spanish Government. I fear they
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
would interpret my trip as a mysterious political
move. I would much rather wait another year, until
the situation has become somewhat clearer and the
passions have cooled off."
WE chat for awhile about the latest political and
economic events in the United States.
The King is anxious to hear my impressions of
Detroit and the automotive industry. Well acquaint-
ed with the theories and books of Henry Ford, he
wants to know what measures, if any, were taken
by Mr. Ford to decrease unemployment and fight
off the effects of the depression. I tell of my own
interview with Ford, during the course of which I
had the temerity to say that he was "all wrong" in
his idea of the future.
"What did Ford answer?"
"Just that it is quite a few years since he heard
that word wrong applied to him."
The King nods approvingly. It is at this juncture
of our conversation that he makes the remark which
I have quoted previously:
"After the present world crisis, what? Will Eu-
rope be able to return to economic sanity? Will the
Monroe Doctrine prove as effective in saving the
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
Americas from the far-reaching claws of bolshevism
as it has been in protecting their sovereignty against
the threats of the Nineteenth Century European
powers? Right now I know of no other question o
equal importance."
The fact of his having mentioned the Monroe .
Doctrine amazes me. It had always been taken for
granted that all sovereigns were bitterly opposed to
the "new system" proclaimed by a farsighted Presi-
dent of the United States; and yet it seems to me I
have detected a note of praise in the intonation of
my august host.
He confirms my supposition:
"The former rulers of Europe failed to appreci-
ate the positive features of the greatly abused Doc-
trine. In it they saw only a menace to their Central
American and South American interests, entirely
forgetting that the principles established by Monroe
could be used at the same time as a shield protect-
ing the new world against the dangers of pernicious
propaganda continuously brewing in Europe. I
would go further than that, and say that even the
South American republics themselves have under-
estimated the benefits to be derived by them from a
clear division between the Western and the Eastern
hemispheres. The history of the spread of bolshe-
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
vism provides me with an excellent illustration of
my point. Had it not been for the Monroe Doctrine,
the South American continent would have become
sooner or later a battleground of clashing European
powers, which would have led in turn to industrial
unrest and an accumulation of revolutionary spirit.
"Bolshevism is a pure and undiluted product of
that hapless European system which made Europe
spend the whole of the last century in destroying the
class of the small property-owners, the only class
capable of supporting organized government. Look
at Europe today: Of all the countries situated
between the Gulf of Biscay and the mountains of
the Ural, France is the only one that can boast of
immunity from the danger of bolshevism because
it possesses some twenty million small owners among
its citizens. I do not know whether the present gov-
ernment of Spain will succeed in its fight against
the ultra-red elements; but if they do, they will
have to thank the Kings of Spain for encouraging
the growth of the class of small land-owners.
"Now then, turning once more toward the South
American republics, we must admit that had it not
been for the Monroe Doctrine, the whole economic
development of that virgin continent would have
taken a different direction and would have followed
[140]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
in the steps of the European countries, thus bring-
ing its peoples into the same impasse where we see
today some of the most powerful empires of Europe.
"You may think it odd that I, a descendant of
the former masters of South America, should be
inclined to praise the Monroe Doctrine; and so it
would be, if the relationship between the Old and
the New Spain were based solely on the fact of the
latter having been conquered by Cortes, Pizarro and
the other daring Iberian adventurers of the Six-
teenth Century. Fortunately for both countries, the
sisterhood of the Iberian peninsula and America
Hispana was built on a much more enduring
foundation.
"Historians annoy me. In their childish attacks
against the ruthlessness displayed by Cortes and
Pizarro they completely ignore that while hold-
ing the sword in one hand, the Iberian conquerors
were carrying the Cross in the other. Perhaps half-
consciously, perhaps even involuntarily, those con-
querors brought into the New World the light o
the most magnificent civilization of modern times.
The Pilgrims who landed in North America were
merely trying to escape from persecution in their
native country; but the Spaniards who stormed the
fortresses of the ancient Aztec rulers were burning
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
with the fire of veritable crusaders. That is why they
succeeded in just fifty years in achieving the con-
quest and the colonization of the South American
continent, while it took the descendants of the Pil-
grims two hundred and fifty years to fight their
way from the Atlantic to the Pacific.
"The selfsame greatly maligned Cortes displayed
the farsightedness of an empire-builder. Very few
people know that as early as the year 1529, that is
to say nearly four hundred years before the opening
of the Panama Canal by the Government of the
United States, Cortes wrote a letter to the King and
Queen of Spain in which he said: 'We have not
found as yet a passage from Iberia to Cathay, but
we must cut it. At no matter what cost, we must
build a canal at Panama/
"A typical child of the Sixteenth Century, Cortes
may not have been particularly elegant in his meth-
ods, but he was the very first European to recognize
that 'westward move the Empires/ In his dreams,
the whole Western World, from Mexico to Brazil,
and from Brazil to Tierra del Fuego, was destined
to become the 'America Hispana/ a proud daughter
of old Spain, and a worthy legatee to the treasures
of the Iberian civilization. He did not live to see
his dreams fulfilled, but his task was well done; and
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
the Empire founded by him in South America
remained faithful to its Spanish traditions.
"When the Nineteenth Century came along,
bringing in its wake the Monroe Doctrine and the
victories of Bolivar in Colombia, Spain had nothing
to worry about. Great Britain may have lost its
prestige in the New World because its transatlantic
standing was based on conquest and military occu-
pation; but the Spanish civilization needed no army
to strengthen the ties between the Iberian penin-
sula and the young republics founded by Bolivar.
It became the duty of the future Kings of Spain to
see that no effort was spared in developing a perma-
nent cultural exchange between the mother-country
and its now numerous daughters in the New World.
"BEFORE I proceed with my account of what I
personally did to promote the idea of Ibero-Ameri-
can civilization, I want you to see some of the letters
received by me within the past few months from
Argentina, Chile, Peru and other South American
republics."
The thick package of letters he produces for my
inspection is well worth commenting upon.
All of them are written by people who await no
favors from the royal tenant of the Hotel Savoy,
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
and who could easily afford to express their feel-
ings freely. Every one of them is inspired by the
same sentiment, and is permeated by the same
fear: their authors maintain that something infi-
nitely valuable was lost for the Spanish world
on the day King Alfonso left Madrid. According to
them, the Spanish sovereign, although living far
away from the South American continent, had
always been considered a vivid symbol of Ibero-
American unity. They draw a parallel between the
part played by him and that filled by the present
King of England. They say that just as the existence
of the latter succeeds in keeping together all the
member-nations of the British Commonwealth not-
withstanding economic and racial divergencies so
also has the figure of King Alfonso XIII reminded
the often quarreling republics of South America of
the obligations imposed by their common past, and
of the splendor of their early history.
They claim that a president of the Spanish Repub-
lic, no matter how great his talents may be, would
never be able to appeal to America Hispana, which
today, in the cool matter-of-fact Twentieth Century,
thrives more than ever before on the proud tra-
dition of cultural unity based on spiritual alle-
giance to Spain.
[144]
Wide World photo
KING ALFONSO PHOTOGRAPHED AFTER A HARD-FOUGHT
POLO MATCH.
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
The grieving authors of these extremely signifi-
cant letters from South America resemble in their
disappointment the possessor of a priceless string of
pearls who, having lost the emerald clasp, is told
he will be given just as solid a clasp, only made of
rhinestones. . . .
They finally confess that their complaints may
contain more emotionality than logic, but then,
isn't the whole driving power of life derived from
emotional sources?
"I must have been still a mere child/* recalls the
King, "when the thought of the millions of Spanish-
speaking and Spanish-thinking people living out-
side Spain proper first came into my mind.
"I always felt that as a nation we Spaniards have
stood on the extreme border of Europe, with our
backs toward the old continent and our faces toward
the New World. While bowing before facts and
realizing that the spirit of the modern era pre-
cluded the possibility of further colonization of
South America, I decided to apply new methods in
recapturing the dreams of my ancestors.
"They were the masters of South America; I was
content to be its friendly brother. They were financ-
ing the expeditions of Columbus, Cortes and
Pizarro, but I preferred to entrust the flag of Spain
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
to the hands of the scientists, writers and mer-
chants.
"The records of my reign prove that beginning
with the year 1910, when my relative Infanta Isa-
bella was asked by me to be present at the centen-
nial celebrations in Argentina and Chile thus
marking the good will of the Crown of Spain a
steady stream of my representatives kept a live con-
tact between the royal palace in Madrid and the
capitals of the South American republics. My instruc-
tions to them were exceedingly simple: 'No inter-
ference with political developments; utmost neu-
trality in dealing with the leaders of different
parties; good will toward every Spanish-speaking
person; all possible support to the South American
merchants/
"I SHALL mention some of the most striking epi-
sodes in the history of my relations with America
Hispana.
"In 1920, during the visit paid to me by the chair-
man of Argentina's delegation at the League of
Nations, we established a well-defined policy to
govern the commercial and cultural intercourse
between Spain and Argentina. In the same year I
dispatched a mission headed by the Infante Don
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
Fernando to Chile on the occasion of the four hun-
dredth anniversary of the death of Magellan.
"In 1922 the President of Argentina, Alvear,
came to Madrid, the first South American chief exec-
utive to make a pilgrimage to the ancient capital of
all Spaniards. Next year the Spanish writer Bena-
vente, who had just received the Nobel Prize for
literature, made a triumphant lecture tour of South
America.
"In 1924 our aviators succeeded in accomplish-
ing the first flight across the South Atlantic, and
were met by an outburst of national pride and cul-
tural solidarity.
"At the same time, while my relatives and repre-
sentatives were visiting and lecturing across the
ocean, I was laying the foundation of several impor-
tant Ibero-American institutions at home.
"I established so-called 'Houses of America' in
Barcelona, Cadiz and Seville, dedicated to the study
of South American culture, and I founded an Ibero-
American Academy of Sciences, and an Ibero-Amer-
ican law-school in Madrid. Right at the moment the
revolution occurred, I was working on two still
more ambitious projects: I was going to turn my
estate in Aranjuez into a Palace of South American
Nations, and I intended to open an Ibero-American
[H7]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
University in Seville for the winners of numerous
scholarships created by me in South America.
"The climax of my activities was reached in 1929.
That year a magnificent Ibero-American Exposi-
tion was organized in Seville. Every South Ameri-
can republic constructed a spectacular pavilion, dis-
playing the products of its trades, and testifying
before the entire world to the fact of the unbroken
continuity of our common culture. An enormous
map of America Hispana placed by its representa-
tives at the entrance of the exposition grounds-
bore a caption which in itself was a sufficient recom-
pense for my efforts. It said: 'South America owes a
great debt of gratitude to Mother Spain.'
"Aside from my personal satisfaction, the material
results of my policy spoke for themselves: in 1913
the trade with Spain amounted to but three per cent
of the entire trade balance of the South American
republics; by 1929 it was multiplied far and beyond
all expectations.
"You may ask, why so much talk about South
America? Why make such strenuous efforts to pro-
mote that distant land? Well, I must admit that it
does make me feel proud to think that in the years
of the after-war panic, when every European govern-
ment was fretting about the competition of the
[148]
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
Americas and dreaming the nonsensical dreams of
an anti-American trade combine, I was the only
responsible head of a European regime who said to
the transatlantic peoples: 'More power to youl I
am willing to cooperate with you; so let us help
each other.'
"Why did I do it? In the first place, because I
was certain that there was much more to be gained
through cooperation with the United States and
the South American republics than through wasting
my time and energy in continuous regrets of the past
glories of Europe. In the second place, I have always
lived in the future. Let the politicians fancy that
they can check the onward march of history by
a cleverly worded treaty! We, the kings, are accus-
tomed to think of tomorrow. And the tomorrow of
the world lies not here in Europe, in the countries
choked by jealousies and blinded by mutual hatreds,
but there across the ocean, among the new nations
that were fortunate enough to escape the necessity
of fighting for more land.
"I CONSIDER that as a King, a Spaniard and a Euro-
pean, I have done my duty by turning the attention
of my people from the past toward the horizons of
the future. As long as Europe persists in closing
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
its ears to the voice of history, no progress at all can
be achieved by its statesmen. Each time another
republic replaces a monarchical regime, they imag-
ine they have taken a step forward; but I seriously
doubt whether a republican government headed by
even the most well-meaning politicians will ever be
prepared to assume the same tremendous respon-
sibility my ancestors and I did. Talk about 'modern
times favoring the spread of radical policies!' Who
could possibly be more radical than a king born and
raised in an atmosphere overcharged with memo-
ries of continuous changes? It all depends, of course,
on the meaning attached by one to the word radical-
ism. If it indicates the vote-getting attitude of an
all-promising demagogue, then I shall gladly cede
this honor to the politicians; but if it strives to con-
vey a determination to work for the welfare of the
masses, then I was and I am the ranking radical of
Spain.
"Should the present government of Spain come
out victorious of its many difficulties and restore
peace, order and prosperity to the people, I shall
admit that its leaders are better radicals than I was,
and I will be overjoyed to extend to them my heart-
felt congratulations. I often hear it said, and almost
every day see it written in the newspapers, that
THE AFTERNOONS OF FONTAINEBLEAU
'King Alfonso's day is gone' and that 'his bolt has
been shot/ but I invariably add: 'Wait and see/
"It is agreed, Alexander/' he reminds me as I
am about to thank him for his patience and take
leave, "that you are not obliged to make my conclu-
sions your own. Use the facts and do not be afraid
to criticize me. Constructive criticism never causes
harm. Only libels do, but they have a peculiar
knack of turning, boomerang-like, against their
perpetrators."
We walk through the corridor and join the Queen
in her little salon. I ask Her Majesty for a photo-
graph, which she signs "Ena"
"Ena Princess Ena" A quarter of a century has
passed since she was known under that name. It
reminds me of the days when on visiting the house
of Princess Henry of Battenberg I used to admire the
radiant blonde beauty of her little daughter Ena.
Hardly did I think then that many years later I
should meet that adorable child in a provincial
hotel in France, the mother of two beautiful girls
who now bombard me with eager questions about
the United States, the mysterious land of their
dreams.
I say my adieux and express the hope to meet the
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
two infantas in the shadows of the Empire State
Building.
"Is it very beautiful? Is it really so inspiring?"
"It is as beautiful and as inspiring as your youth.
At night it resembles a gigantic candle lighted by
the Twentieth Century for the greater glory of the
all-conquering human genius/'
"One more description like this/' exclaims the
King, "and I shall be ordering my transatlantic trans-
portation!'*
I wish he would. It seems to me that while in
America, far away from the scenes of the tragedy,
he would be able to see his own life from a distance
and to find considerable mental comfort in the reali-
zation of the immensity of the task performed by
him with great courage and utmost honesty. I know
that I shall always remember him as a brilliant-
eyed boy of nineteen who sat perfectly calm in a
carriage wrecked by the bomb of an anarchist, laugh-
ing and saying that such were the risks of the royal
profession.
PART THREE:
"THE TECHNIQUE OF THE COMEBACK"
PART THREE:
"THE TECHNIQUE OF THE COMEBACK"
MY dear uncle/' wrote the Crown Prince of
Germany from his provincial retreat in
Silesia in the early spring of 1932, "so
hectic were the last six months of my life, so often
did I figure in the news, that both Cecilia and my-
self feel as though we could stand a bit of privacy.
Flattered as we are by this sudden outburst of public
attention, we confess that we did not solicit it in
the least. . . ."
The "hectic six months" mentioned in the letter
of my German nephew happened to be precisely the
six months which had elapsed since I had bid adieu
to King Alfonso of Spain in the lobby of his hotel in
Fontainebleau. The stocks of royalty which had
touched a "new low" on the day of his landing in
Marseilles April i6th, 1931 had suddenly staged a
vigorous rally and recovered a goodly part of the
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
ground lost in the course of the previous fourteen
years. Democracy had failed to surmount the eco-
nomic crisis and this, logically enough, constituted
bullish news insofar as the Pretenders were con-
cerned. The rules of politics are no less stringent
than those of the Stock Exchange: the shorts must
cover sooner or later, and the self-same operators
who had raided the Hohenzollerns, the Hapsburgs
and the Wittelsbachs in 1918 began to bid for them
in 1932.
"Things never were so bad under the Kaiser/'
this whining phrase (whoever coined it!) proved
extremely popular with panicky bankers and starv-
ing ex-soldiers alike. In no time it became the battle-
cry of the Restoration, and it took an emphatic "no"
from the old gentleman in Doom to keep his son
from being pitted against von Hindenburg.
Not that the elder Hohenzollern felt jealous of his
offspring; far from it. The disagreement, if any, had
to do with the "method," not with the principle.
The son was willing to reach the throne with the aid
of the handy ladder of the Presidency. The father,
always a stickler on etiquette, thought that this idea
reeked a little too much of that clumsy upstart, the
third Bonaparte. After all, said the patriarch of the
Clan, a Hohenzollern should not accept favors from
Keystone photo
GRAND DUKE CYRIL OF RUSSIA.
THE TECHNIQUE OF THE COMEBACK
an Austrian adventurer and even though Berlin
might well be worth a mass it is better to have it said
by some other bishop, not Herr Hitler.
The Doom decision delivered, an eloquent silence
descended upon the haunts of the German monarch-
ists and now it fell to the lot of the international
legitimists to continue the dispute as to the best tech-
nique of an imperial comeback. Listening to their
angry shouts under the awnings of the sidewalk cafes
in Paris one might have thought that the clocks were
moved eighteen years back and that a man by the
name of Lenin was still debating the platform of a
would-be soviet government of Russia. There is
something in the air of the Grand Boulevards that
enables the exiles be they monarchists or commu-
niststo see through the smoky clouds of the future.
Perhaps, it may be merely an after-effect of too much
vermouth-nature and too little eau de seltz.
NATIONS have changed a lot since the days when
Charles II was perambulating between Holland,
France and Spain in search of cash and an army to
fight Cromwell. Military intervention, except in
China, has become a distinct thing of the past. Even
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
the Rumanians, eager as they always are to score
an easy victory, sulked at their Queen's idea of
fighting the Hapsburg battle in Hungary. True
enough, the Allies did send their troops to Russia in
1919 but that was done for the sake of oil and
manganese, not for the Romanovs. A modern pre-
tender must rely solely on the counter-revolutionary
forces within his own nation if he really expects to
stage a comeback. I say "really" because not every
Pretender cares to ascend the throne. Some of them
the Guises in the case of France, the Braganzas in
the case of Portugal do their pretending with the
tongue in the cheek, simply to keep up a grand and
glorious tradition. I imagine that the late Duke of
Orleans would have been the unhappiest man in the
world had he awakened one morning to learn that
the "beloved" French nation was ready to receive
him in Paris. He liked London, he got thoroughly
accustomed to thick fogs and thin coffee, and when-
ever he had to address a gathering of French royal-
ists, he sighed and said under his breath: "what
asses . . .'*
I may be hopelessly wrong, but it is my sincere
belief that even the Kaiser would think twice before
accepting the invitation to return to Potsdam. The
fourteen years spent by him in the simple but solid
THE TECHNIQUE OF THE COMEBACK
comforts of his castle in Doom must have cultivated
in him a taste for healthy life.
The same is the case of the present "first citizen"
of Coburg, my wise and big-hearted friend the ex-
Czar of Bulgaria, and as for the late King Manuel
of Portugal, no forces in the universe could have
made him exchange England and his priceless col-
lection of first editions for the Royal Palace in
Lisbon and the Portuguese street scene. Gaby Deslys
or no Gaby Deslys, he would have remained in
London until the very end and it is pleasant to think
that his last day on this planet was spent by him in
the civilized atmosphere of Wimbledon.
Then there is that gentlemanly white-bearded
chap in Nice, the ex-Sultan of Turkey and the ex-
Calif of Islam. His was a dignified, if somewhat
forced, exit; in fact, his trunks were packed and
reservations made before the order of expulsion
signed by the energetic Kemal could reach the prem-
ises of Yildiz-Kiosk. Strolling in the Promenade des
Anglais and smiling cheerfully, he does not resemble
the preconceived type of a Bloody Sultan's descend-
ant in the least. He tips well and the French like
him. He married his daughters to the two sons of a
fabulously rich Rajah and has discovered that the
taste of Perrier compares most favorably with that
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
of the celebrated sweet waters of Beykos. A Sultan
of his age can easily exist without the benefit of
kneeling subjects. One of these days he may learn to
play contract and then he shall find an amiable and
capable partner in the person of ex-King George of
Greece: a massacre or two are easily forgotten after
the first rubber. For I likewise doubt the ultimate
ambitions of my Hellenic cousin. Brought up
between the Royal Palace in Athens and his father's
favorite retreat in Italy, in a constant turmoil of
packing and unpacking he was obliged to leave
Greece twice while still a boy he finds it distinctly
restful not to live the life of a pursued commuter.
He does not begrudge Mr. Venizelos the republican
attempts to exploit the imaginary "royalist plots"
because he realizes that the absence of snakes is apt
to imperil the job of a St. Patrick.
THIS leaves us with just four men who are willing
and eager to answer what we royalty tentatively refer
to as the Call of the Nation. Alfonso of Spain,
Friedrich-Wilhelm of Germany, Cyril of Russia and
the youthful Otto of Hungary. Curiously enough,
with the sole exception of King Alfonso, none of
THE TECHNIQUE OF THE COMEBACK
them ever has occupied a throne, which fact might
explain both their eagerness and their lack o fear.
We have seen that His Catholic Majesty of Spain
has decided to pursue his policy of "watchful wait-
ing." No such spirit of resignation is apparent in the
case of the other three: if the Call of the Nation ever
reaches their present residences, they will be the
ones to help put it through. So different are their
financial situations and the degree of their popu-
larity at home that their experiences instead of
evolving a general Technique of the Comeback
prove that there are as many techniques as there are
pretenders.
The Crown Prince is permitted to live in Ger-
many. His exile in Holland lasted but four years,
foiling to injure his popularity with the ex-soldiers
or to damage his beautiful estates in Silesia. The em-
ployees of his office in the Unter den Linden would
be very indignant indeed were one to refer to their
organization as "office" or to themselves as "em-
ployees." The heading of the stationery reads: "the
Chancellery of His Imperial Highness, the Crown
Prince of Germany." The secretary to the Prince
signs his name as "Berg, private councilor," The
newspapers, all but the soviet ones, speak of the
Crown Prince in terms of respect. They often dis-
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
agree with his program but he is still "His Imperial
Highness/' The privilege of calling royalty by their
last names is being left by German journalists to
their American colleagues: it does take a transat-
lantic homme de lettres to conclude that a "Crown
Prince" (meaning the eldest son of an Emperor) or
a "Grand Duke" (meaning a son or a grandson of an
Emperor) ceases to be his father's son on the day
Revolution triumphs.
Although by no means as wealthy as he was before
the war, the Crown Prince is relatively well-to-do
and in any case free from worries about tomorrow's
dinner or the-end-of-the-month bills. He does not
write for magazines. He need not sell his endorse-
ment of a popular brand of cigarettes. He never
accepts invitations from war profiteers, and inn-
keepers are still excluded from the circle of his social
acquaintances. This puts him in a class by himself
as a Pretender because none of his prototypes in
the past or colleagues in the present can boast of the
same degree of financial independence. Charles II
lived off the extremely meager donations of his
French and Dutch relatives and there were long
stretches in his exile when he could not afford a
warm coat for himself or a new saddle for his horse.
Louis XVIII earned his bread and butter as a
THE TECHNIQUE OF THE COMEBACK
teacher of French in a high-school in Russia. Louis-
Philippe tried his hand at every conceivable job,
both in Europe and in America. And as for the pres-
ent day pretenders, neither the would-be King of
Hungary nor the would-be Emperor of Russia can
write a check for as much as one thousand dollars.
They live from month to month, depending on the
generosity of their impoverished supporters or the
bounty of their reigning relatives, their revenues de-
rived from both sources failing to cover the bills of
their landlords.
Grand Duke Cyril has settled down in the small
village of St. Briac on the coast of Brittany, while
Otto remains in Belgium where he moved after a
protracted stay in Spain as a "guest'* of King
Alfonso. So far Otto's talking has been done by his
mother Zita, a throne-struck woman if there ever
was one. A Bourbon of Panne by birth, she is more
pronounced in her Hapsburg clannishness than any
real Hapsburg ever was, which is invariably the case
with all ambitious women who come to the throne
through a sheer prank of fate. As a child, Zita
showed such fondness of court etiquette that it made
her the pet of the Master of Ceremonies and the
despair of her chums. As a middle-aged woman, an
exiled Empress and an impoverished widow, she has
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
lost none of her original pride. She is a confirmed
believer in the veracity of stock phrases and because
she had insisted that the Hungarians "adore" their
sovereigns, her handsome husband Charles quit his
peaceful abode in Switzerland and boarded an air-
plane to fly to Budapest. He landed on the Island of
Madeira where he died shortly afterwards, a heart-
broken and puzzled prisoner of the self-styled Castle-
reaghs of the Little Entente. The lesson was cruel,
its moral obvious, and yet it failed to change Zita's
ideas or her technique. She can never forget that she
is a Bourbon by birth and a Hapsburg by marriage,
and her talent for memorizing these cardinal facts of
her family's history plays havoc with the plans of the,
Hungarian legitimists. The homecoming of a King
must necessarily be disguised behind the veil of a
"new deal" and the country of Kossuth is the last
one to get excited over the arrival of a bourbonesque
Hapsburg. An American politician versed in the
art of convention trading and convention double-
crossing would bring Otto to Budapest in less than
a year. It is just a question of quieting this minister's
fears and flattering that orator's vanity. The job is
simple for an American politician but not for a
fantastically proud woman who would rather be a
Hapsburg in a village in Belgium than a hostage of
Wide World photo
FRIEDRICH-WILHELM, THE CROWN PRINCE OF GERMANY.
THE TECHNIQUE OF THE COMEBACK
stunt-masters in the Royal Palace in Budapest. She is
willing to wait and wait she will. According to the
family records, the "waiting period" of a Bourbon
may consume as much as twenty-five years.
Were I to risk my reputation as a prophet, I
would predict that of the four Pretenders the Crown
Prince of Germany will be the first to reach the
Throne, closely followed by King Alfonso and sep-
arated by miles and miles from a Hapsburg and a
Romanov. I am not sufficiently foolish to try to guess
even as a joke which particular Hapsburg and which
particular Romanov shall return to the capitals of
their ancestors. Grand Duke Cyril has a son. Both
the latter and the youthful Otto will, no doubt,
marry some day and give birth to male heirs. This
will take time but neither one of the two nations
seems to be in too great a hurry.
The Germans are. So much so that, admirable as
the Crown Prince's technique is, he would be doing
just as well by merely avoiding gaffes and not posing
too much for the American photographers. There is
such a thing in the career of a Pretender as attend-
ing too many parades.
To compare the actions of the Crown Prince with
those of Grand Duke Cyril would be obviously un-
fair to the nominal head of the exiled Romanovs. It
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
is not the fault of the Grand Duke that our imme-
diate ancestors never stopped to consider that a
dynasty must have a party, that the backbone of
every regime is formed by a well maintained system
of political patronage. The Hohenzollerns, thanks to
the clear wisdom of Bismarck, had always known
that the class of wealthy Prussian landowners con-
stituted the solid basis of the German Throne. They
cherished the affection of those muchly criticized
"junkers" and no Heidelberg theoretician and no
talkative Berlin economist was ever able to make
them quarrel with their natural supporters. It
is only because Emperor Wilhelm I favored the
"junkers'* that his great-grandson may depend today
on the unlimited loyalty of a von Papen. The enthu-
siastic support of even a half of one per cent of the
population is all that is necessary for the mainte-
nance of a regime. The Hohenzollerns understood it
in Germany, the communists in Russia, but the
Romanovs missed their chance. When my grand-
father Emperor Nicholas I died he left to his son
what he called "the army of the forty thousand chiefs
of police," meaning the forty thousand-odd wealthy
landowners of Russia who were accustomed to re-
ceive favors from the throne. These forty thousand
faithfuls realized that they stood and fell with the
THE TECHNIQUE OF THE COMEBACK
dynasty and made it their self-imposed duty to police
the vast Empire. They would have stuck to the
Romanovs just as the "junkers" did to the Hohen-
zollerns had it not been for the fact that in the year
1861 a strange gesture was made by Emperor Alex-
ander II. The gesture is known to the historians as
the Emancipation of the Serfs and it had for net re-
sult the disappearance of the party that was support-
ing the regime. Had the serfs been given adequate
land together with their freedom, they would have
rallied around the throne and replaced the party of
the rich agrarians. As it was, the serfs became polit-
ically neutral at best while, at the same time, the
dynasty lost its claims on the fealty of the masters.
Seventy years later the peasants were driven back
into practical serfdom because the communists of
1931 understood what had escaped the mind of
Emperor Alexander II: whatever the name of the
regime, its only hope of survival lies in the mainte-
nance of a compact party of a few favored ones, not
in the millions of lukewarm voters.
I am quite certain that this interpretation of the
Chief Event of modern Russian history would hor-
rify Grand Duke Cyril. His program reeks of noble-
hearted liberalism and his technique consists of
appealing to the now disfranchised majority of
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
Russia, I am wishing him the best of luck, but I
doubt his ability to re-write the axioms of practical
politics. Even the Presidents of the United States
must have their faithful postmasters.
Were I to rule over an Empire, I would pit any
day of the year the thorough loyalty of 40,000
against the grumblings of 120,000,000. Were I to
attempt a comeback, I would think up a program
that would make it worth while for those 40,000 to
take a chance even against loaded dice. I realize that
this statement classifies me with the enemies of De-
mocracy but I can endure it when I think of the
League of Nations. If this is fascism, then the first
name of Lenin was Benito,
PART FOUR:
THE ART OF RIDING THE STORM
PART FOUR:
THE ART OF RIDING THE STORM
WITHIN my lifetime the number of the
leading reigning houses of Europe has
dwindled down from eighteen to ten.
The Emperors of France, the Kings or Portugal,
the Czars of Russia, the Kaisers of Germany, the
Caesars of the Holy Austro-Hungarian Empire, the
Sultans of Turkey, the Kings of Greece and the
Kings of Spain have passed on, in the order named,
leaving in their wake a wealth of glamorous
romance and a considerable accumulation of bitter
object lessons.
Now, whenever a great international institution
registers within the short span of sixty years forty-
four per cent of casualties among its member-firms,
something is obviously and radically wrong both
with its policies and practice.
As a Grand Duke and a former beneficiary of the
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
Imperial Regime, I am tempted to give vent to a
certain amount of resentment, but as a man not en-
tirely deprived of logic, I realize that the causes of
the fall of my relatives and friends are much less
interesting to outsiders than the methods which
help the remaining European sovereigns to continue
in office.
To each nation its measure. That which delights
one may appall the other. I do not need to empha-
size that the last ten wearers of the royal purple
have recourse to widely different means in their
ceaseless combat against time and tide. For purposes
of classification I shall divide them into four groups.
Group One characterized by its sense of enlight-
ened paternalism includes one Queen and four
Kings: Wilhelmina of the Netherlands, Albert I of
Belgium, Christian X of Denmark, Gustav-Adolph
of Sweden and Haakon VII of Norway.
Group Two permeated by a strong desire to
uphold the Balkanic brand of absolutism- consists
of Alexander I of Yugoslavia, Boris III of Bulgaria
and Carol II of Rumania.
The other two groups possess a one-man member-
ship each. There is King George V of England and
there is King Victor-Emmanuel III of Italy: the great
[172]
THE ART OF RIDING THE STORM
British enigma and the outstanding paradox of the
Fascist State.
To be absolutely exact, we have still with us the
King of Albania, the reigning Grand Duchess of
Luxemburg and the Prince of Monaco, but, as the
part played by their respective countries is some-
what limited in scope, I may ignore them in my roll
call of the surviving sovereigns of Europe just as I
disregarded the passing of the Kings of Bavaria,
Saxonia and other German half-sovereigns in my
report of the casualties among royalty.
How do the Big Ten of Europe succeed in keep-
ing their glorified jobs?
The question is plain and simple, but the various
answers, as given by the omniscient political observ-
ers, leave me in a serious dilemma.
I am told that the House of Windsor is just a
"good old English tradition" and then I think of
the last Emperor of Austria who died a destitute
exile on the island of Madeira. Surely no one can
deny that the almost endless reign of the Hapsburgs
outdated by a great many centuries any other "good
old tradition" of the modern world.
I am told that King Albert I of Belgium owes the
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
stability of his throne to his "one hundred per cent
patriotism/' and again I evoke the image of the
present woodchopping squire of Doorn. Whatever
the Kaiser's shortcomings may have been, not even
his bitterest enemies have ever attempted to ques-
tion the completeness of his patriotism.
When talking to Yugoslavs, I am usually given
any amount of proofs of King Alexander's "tremen-
dous personal popularity" and to them I quote the
example of King Alfonso. Up to April isth, 1931,
was there a more "popular" Spaniard in the whole
of Spain?
The journeyman type of Scandinavian pro-royal
argument deals with the "democratism" and the
"niceness" of the three Northern Kings, and while I
bow to no one in my admiration, for Christian X,
Gustav-Adolph V and Haakon VII, I am obliged to
remind my informers that with a very few excep-
tions there never existed a sovereign who did not
possess the secret of being charming and simple.
Even the so-called "bloody" Sultan Abdul-Hamid
of Turkey impressed me at his luncheon table as a
man of great fascination who would not harm a fly,
let alone slaughtering thousands of Armenians.
I can go on and on quoting the stock-phrases one
overhears in the political circles of London and The
THE ART OF RIDING THE STORM
Hague, Brussels and Stockholm, Belgrade and
Sophia, but in the end I still will have to use the very
caustic remark of the exiled King of Spain as a
searchlight to guide me through the labyrinth of
"royal mysteries."
"How do you account for the survival of the
remaining thrones of Europe?" I asked him recently
in Fontainebleau, "do you consider those sovereigns
greater statesmen and more experienced pilots than
those who have been dethroned by war and revolu-
tion?"
"Tight-rope walkers, every one of them!" an-
swered the King without a moment's hesitation,
"just as I was and as anyone born to a crown is and
always will be. You know how it is with the tight-
rope walkers: sometimes they manage to maintain
their balance until the very end of the performance;
then they glean applause, no end of it. Often, how-
ever, they experience a slight vertigo; then they fall
and break their necks. . . . Who is there to decide
whether the one who succeeded was a more talented
tight-rope walker than the one who failed?"
Opinionated as this judgment may appear, it set
a definite goal for my investigation: I had to find
out what devices help a royal tight-rope walker to
maintain his balance and what dangers, lurking in
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
the stupendously involved political life o contem-
porary Europe, would be likely to cause a slight
vertigo.
My task was delicate and arduous, and could not
have been accomplished at all had it not been for
the extensive ramifications of my family tree. Not
unlike the Southerners, we, the royal exiles, possess
an incredible number of uncles and cousins, neph-
ews and nieces. With the exception of the Royal
Family of Belgium and the dethroned house of
Hapsburg, I am related to each and every one of
the present and former reigning dynasties of Europe.
To some of them I am doubly related, and only the
fear of causing mental discomfort to the readers
keeps me from explaining how it happened that I
am both uncle and cousin of the sovereigns of Den-
mark. In any event, I felt at home in my investiga-
tion.
Since the day I was old enough to understand
that each throne is only as strong as its weakest
mainstay, I took an active part in conversations
revolving around the subject of that "uncertain
future facing us all."
Many a time while walking with the late Czar
Nicholas II along the trail connecting our respective
palaces in the Crimea, I heard him discuss the rela-
[176]
THE ART OF RIDING THE STORM
tive merits of a friendly parliament and a strong
police; and on many an otherwise perfect morning,
while playing golf with King Edward VII in Biarritz,
I listened to the frank prophesies of the Father of
the Triple Alliance-
Years went by. An exile at fifty-two, I had become,
in the estimation of my reigning relatives, an expert
on all matters revolutionary. We often met. We
reminisced. We sized up the present. We considered
the future. The intercourse between the "ins" and
the "outs" varies but little, be they royalty or poli-
ticians. The "ins" are inclined to take the advice of
their less fortunate colleagues with certain reserva-
tions; the "outs," on the other hand, are invariably
prone to exaggerate the danger-signals. All in all,
I learned a great deal. Because of this I can say that I
would not exchange my present precarious position
for any one of the ten remaining thrones of Europe,
and least of all for the one that stands in the white-
and-gold room of Buckingham Palace.
3
May the world come against her,
England yet shall stand . . .
WHEN a nation is fighting for its very existence,
the proudest of flowery quotations is bound to fall
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
flat: Lord Tennyson's two celebrated lines sounded
more pathetic than impressive when recited in the
late summer of 1931 from the benches of His
Britannic Majesty's Government by the pale-faced
invalid Philip Snowden, then Chancellor of the
Exchequer.
Though the honorable members present "waved
their papers/ 7 applauded vociferously and shouted
"hear, hear" in voices trembling with emotion,
nothing, not even the rhythm of martial poetry,
could obliterate in their minds the fatal significance
of the events which had taken place during the two
weeks preceding this historical session of Parliament.
The pound sterling had gone off the gold stand-
ard! The Bank of England, that age-old symbol of
financial reliability, was facing a panic, perhaps
complete collapse and bankruptcy!
Poet Tennyson may have been right in his day,
and England in the course of her glamorous past
may have succeeded on more than one occasion in
her single-handed fight against the world, but
would she be able to survive and come out victorious
now, when she had to call upon all her resources of
tenacity and grit in her present battle for the
salvation of the world?
Such was the ominous question wracking the
THE ART OF RIDING THE STORM
nerves of the British nation in the Month of Despair
of the Year of Damnation 1931.
The politicians raved while trying to reconcile
the unequivocal commands of a tense moment with
the highly involved platforms of their respective
parties.
The economists wasted quarts of ink and ran out
of words suggesting useless panaceas.
The simple citizens looked around and turned to
the traditional device of hoarding gold and currency.
There remained just one man in the whole of the
gigantic Empire to whom his duty was painfully
clear and in whose estimation the "proper thing to
do" looked obvious though infinitely difficult.
A night's ride from London, in his ancestral castle
of Balmoral, sat George V, King of Great Britain,
Emperor of India, "Defender of the Faith/' If faith
ever needed a defender, now was the moment to
come to its rescue.
The King ordered his special train, rushed back
to London and spent the next morning in momen-
tous conference with Messrs. MacDonald, Baldwin
and Samuel, the leaders of the three great political
parties of England. Around luncheon time the Em-
pire learned that a Government of National Union
was to be organized, an amazing combination that
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
had seemed thoroughly impossible only twenty-
four hours before.
What did the King say to the three political
leaders?
What were the arguments used by the Tenant of
Buckingham Palace that made Conservatives, Lib-
erals and Laborites cast aside their historical dif-
ferences and forget their traditional hostility?
They did not need to be told of the calamities
throttling the Empire. Nothing the King could have
said to them in regard to the World Crisis would
have been new to men of their wisdom and ex-
perience, while an appeal to their patriotism would
have sounded decidedly out-of-place when addressed
to statesmen of their caliber.
The newspapers groaned with the anguish of un-
satisfied curiosity. The whispering busybodies
strained their ears in vain.
No explanation was forthcoming from Bucking-
ham Palace and no hints were volunteered by the
participants in the Royal Conference.
The iron-clad rule which protects the King of
England against the "risks" of being quoted was to
be respected even after the downfall of the pound!
Overindulgence in guessing rarely helps solve a
puzzle; on the contrary, it is often likely to obscure
THE ART OF RIDING THE STORM
the correct perspective. That is why I prefer to
effect my reconstruction of the British Royal Enigma
by dealing solely with facts, recent facts which are
beyond doubt, as well as facts that have sufficiently
receded into the past to permit frank and uncensored
discussion. In this way I will not violate any con-
fidences, and, on the other hand, I will resist the
temptations which overcome all explorers in the
Realm of Guesswork.
CONSIDER the case of a King at sixty-six, facing
the most formidable problem of his life and realiz-
ing that England must be saved and the stricken
world shown the "way out/'
And then consider the case of the two Kings,
for it would appear as though there always were
two different men, both bearing the name o
George V, and both living in Buckingham Palace,
but resembling each other as little as a faded effigy
of Caesar resembles the vigorous warrior who led
his legions into ancient Gaul.
There were and there are, indeed, two Georges
V: one extremely familiar to the multitude of his
subjects and to humanity at large; another pos-
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
sessing a personality hidden from everybody except
his relatives and close collaborators.
One whom the world has grown accustomed to
consider as "just a figure-head/' a mild-mannered,
soft-spoken, markedly reserved, smiling, old gentle-
man, officiating at the race meets, and reading to
Parliament the anodine speeches written by his very
clever ministers.
Another a rugged naval officer with iron nerves,
who went through the fifty-one months of the war
without losing his courage even for a second, a firm
head of a vigorous family who succeeded in main-
taining the best of the Victorian traditions in the
face of a general collapse of morals; a forceful and a
lucid talker who refuses to use sonorous words as
a camouflage for his thoughts.
One who remained throughout the twenty-one
years of his reign the Guardian and the Prisoner of
the Constitution, never attempting to usurp the
right of initiative vested in the Government.
Another who borrowed the stern intonations of
Queen Victoria's voice when demanding of his
counselors an immediate settlement of this or that
thorny problem of State.
One who acquiesced and confirmed, while his
ministers led and ruled; who presided at garden
Wide World photo
A HAPSBURG BY MARRIAGE, A BOURBON BY BIRTH!
EX-EMPRESS ZITA OF AUSTRIA.
THE ART OF RIDING THE STORM
parties and with a uniform smile greeted visiting
American lawyers and disgruntled Hindoo revolu-
tionaries, Arabian warriors and complaining He-
brew delegates while his ambassadors orated at In-
ternational Conferences and crossed oceans looking
for a compromise that would cure the post-war ills;
who welcomed anyone approved by his Parliament
whether he be an over-taxed Lord or a Laborite
swelled with ambitions while the politicians quar-
reled with each other and threatened resignation;
who stayed secluded in his Palace not sharing in the
triumphs though always ready to shoulder the
blame, while others took the credit for all achieve-
ments and disclaimed responsibility for failures.
Another the "papa" of his four sons whom these
boys know to be a vastly different human being:
an earnest thinker who spends many a sleepless night
awaiting the dispatches from abroad or the messages
from Number Ten Downing Street, and who often
has to make a strenuous effort to regain that cheer-
ful expression which the crowds lining the streets
of London expect their Sovereign to wear con-
stantly.
Of all personalities the personality of a King is
the hardest to X-ray, and so the world, the near-
sighted, self-complacent world of editorial writers,
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
foreign correspondents and political observers, over-
looked the unassuming Head of the British Com-
monwealth and took note only of the work and
quoted only the so-called "historical phrases" of his
famous Prime Ministers.
The legal-minded Asquith, the ever-boisterous
Lloyd George, the sadly phlegmatic Bonar Law, the
meditating Baldwin, the reformed labor-agitator
MacDonald each one of these five succeeded in
capturing the popular imagination, but the King
himself remained, to all appearances, only the Last
Mohican of Good Old England, only a certain un-
definable something which was presumably helping
to keep together the sister-nations of the Empire.
Didn't the bright young radicals remark almost
within Royal hearing: "the existence of our Kings
and the annual running of our Derby merely tend
to remind Australia and South Africa, New Zealand
and Canada, of their membership in the self-same
organization!"
No radicals were needed, however, to demon-
strate to George V the odd character of his position
and to prove to him the advisability of maintaining
his dual personality. His own father, undoubtedly
the most talented and most brilliant of all Windsors,
entertained but a very slight illusion as to the possi-
THE ART OF RIDING THE STORM
bility of the monarchistic regime being continued
in Great Britain for any great length of time.
I shall never forget the reconciled irony of King
Edward VII's voice when, as he sat on the terrace of
his summer Palace and looking at his then very
youthful grandson, the present Prince of Wales,
playing in the garden below, he nudged me and
said with the air of an astrologist reading the future:
"You see that boy the last King of England!"
The twenty-four years that passed since the day
"Uncle Bertie" made his remarkable forecast came
within an inch of proving the extreme wisdom of
that Royal thinker. The three great Empires have
fallen: cousin Nicky has met his death in an obscure
town in Siberia; cousin Willy has retired to the life
of a ruddy woodchopping squire in his very middle-
class castle in Doom; cousin Alfonso was forced to
exchange the glitter of Madrid for the oblivion of
Fontainebleau; and a group of odd-looking individ-
uals, coal miners of Wales and school-teachers of
Scotland, have firmly planted themselves on the
benches of His Majesty's Government.
It looked as though nothing could save the Throne
of the Windsors from passing out of the picture.
And then, suddenly, something strange happened,
something which dealt a deadly blow to the very
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
idea of Democracy just at the precise moment when
Democracy was riding the crest of the waves.
Mussolini and Stalin, Hitler and the firm militar-
istic regime in France, fascisti and nazis, leather-
coated communists and gold-braided generals in
spite of the difference in their slogans, they all re-
sembled each other in their methods. Brothers under
the skin, they found supreme delight in ridiculing
the "Ideals of Democracy"; they turned its program
into an infernal joke, and they spoke to their cohorts
of heavily armed men in a language that would have
brought a grin of envy to the faces of Napoleon,
Wellington and Bliicher.
Depression becomes a Dictator!
When the World Crisis sounded its dismal horn,
only the countries ruled by an iron fist were able to
withstand the panic. Even the United States has dis-
covered to the utter dismay of the liberal American
philosophers that the Man-in-the- White-House could
obtain effective results only when willing and able
to substitute his own. decisions for those of Con-
gress.
What was England to do?
The choice obviously lay between appointing a
dictator of unknown possibilities a measure that
would never have appealed to the liberty-loving
THE ART OF RIDING THE STORM
Britishers or preserving the Rule of Democracy
under the tutelage and protection of an unobtrusive
King.
There is no limit to the pranks of history. What
would King Edward VII have thought and said were
he to know that fully twenty-one years after his
death the flamboyant, anti-dynastic Scotsman Mac-
Donald would be begging his son, George V, to save
the British Empire from chaos and the Labor Party
from the "impossible demands" of the conservatives?
TRAVELING in his train from Balmoral to London,
the King must have mused quite a bit over this
wholly unexpected turn of the wheel of history.
At the age of sixty-six, having done his utmost to
keep up with the "spirit of modern times/* he was
now recognizing, perhaps with a great deal of be-
wilderment, that he should turn to his grand-
mother's and father's policies both for inspiration
and example.
He was certainly eager enough to accept the sug-
gestions of his country's political leaders, provided
they were willing to forget their party-platforms
a thing which they obviously were not prepared to
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
do. And, on the other hand, every one o the prob-
lems that threatened to crush the Empire, had con-
fronted his immediate predecessors on the Throne
at one time or another.
Now and in the past his eyes had been invariably
open to realities. From the very first moment of his
reign he had made it a policy to keep in constant
touch with his people, and, in "taking the tempera-
ture" of the Empire, not to rely solely on his minis-
ters' reports. Aside from his own very pronounced
level-headed scepticism, there was a grave object
lesson provided by the fate of his German cousin
the Kaiser the Kaiser who had ordered that a
special "all's well" journal, printed on gilt-edged
paper, be served with his breakfast and who read
with no end of childish glee the flattering comments
of the Court's privy editorial writers.
Nothing of that sort would have been tolerated by
George V. Every morning, whether sick or well, he
began his work by perusing thirty newspapers,
printed in three different languages and represent-
ing the veritable consensus of all parties' and all
countries' opinions. Thanks to that lifelong habit,
his knowledge of national and international affairs
compared very favorably with that of the most il-
lustrious observers of the Foreign Office. Therefore,
THE ART OF RIDING THE STORM
the alarming telephone messages which reached
Balmoral Castle the day of his precipitate departure
for London added but little to what he had been
able to read between the sinister black headlines of
the papers. His favorite journals, all thirty of them,
had told him everything in unmistakable terms.
The unrest in India. The menacing financial
dictatorship of France in Europe. The advisability
of reaching a harmonious understanding with the
United States. The necessity of granting special tariff
privileges to the overseas members of the British
Commonwealth. Ambitious Italy. Disgruntled Ger-
many. A disrupted "balance of power" on the old
continent. The overwhelming shadow of the "Rus-
sian bear."
The more he pondered over all those puzzles
described at large in his thirty newspapers, the more
clearly it dawned upon him that he had to turn to
yesteryear for guidance and practical advice.
Gandhi may have been but an infant-in-arms in
the days of Queen Victoria's apogee, but the Indian
Problem was just as acute in those almost forgotten
"glorious eighties/'
His grandmother never stopped worrying over
India's internal strife. The sarcastic historians not-
withstanding, it was not her passing fancy nor a long-
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
ing for additional glamor that prompted her decision
to be crowned Empress of India. It was thus that
she tried to consolidate the hostile races and religions
of that colossal country around a Throne that would
be impartial, unbiased and helpful. Long before
the big-hearted American missionaries and the sen-
sational "special correspondents" had b.ecome aware
of the existence of "untouchables" and of the revolt-
ingly uneven distribution of wealth in India, Queen
Victoria had attempted to be friendly with all classes
of Hindoos. A woman in her early seventies, she
decided to learn the Hindustani language and chose
for teacher a simple Hindoo of small means by the
name of Munchi.
"Munchi". . . . His name revives in my memory
a story extremely characteristic of Queen Victoria's
Indian policy, a story which is well known to King
George V.
It happened in 1889. I was twenty-three and a
sublieutenant on H.I.M.S. Rynda. Stopping in
London on my return from a three-year cruise
around the world I received a telegram from my
cousin, Emperor Alexander III, ordering me to
present his respects to Queen Victoria. As the rela-
tions between the two countries were more or less
strained at that moment, I did not relish my
THE ART OF RIDING THE STORM
assignment. I had heard a great deal about the
alleged coldness of the powerful Queen and was
prepared to be frozen.
The invitation to the Palace mentioning "the
luncheon" increased my fears. An audience has at
least the advantage of short duration, but the
thought of sitting through a long meal with a
sovereign known for her distrust of Russia filled me
with apprehension. Arriving at the Palace ahead of
the appointed time, I was shown into a large somber
salon. I sat alone and waited for a few minutes.
Then two tall Hindoos appeared, bowed to me, and
opened the double doors leading into the inner
apartments. A short plump woman stood on the
threshold. I kissed her hand and we began to talk. I
was slightly taken aback by the very pronounced
cordiality of her manner. At first I imagined it
signified a coming change in Great Britain's Russian
policy. The explanation was forthcoming, however.
"I have heard all sorts of good things about you,"
the Queen said with a smile, "I must thank you for
your very kind treatment of one of my dearest
friends."
I looked surprised. I could not recall ever having
met anyone capable of boasting of friendship with
Queen Victoria.
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
"Have you already forgotten him?" she asked
laughingly, "Munchi, my teacher of Hindustani."
Now I knew the reason for this warm reception,
although Munchi had never told me of being the
teacher of Her Britannic Majesty. I met him in
Aghra while inspecting the Taj-Mahal. He spoke
most intelligently of the different religions of India
and I was naturally pleased to accept the invitation
to dine at his house. It never dawned upon me that
the fact of my breaking Munchi's bread could elevate
his standing in the eyes of the haughty Hindoo
Rajahs and that he would write a long letter to
Queen Victoria glorifying my "marvelous kindness."
The Queen rang the bell. The door opened letting
in, of all people, our mutual friend Munchi in the
flesh. We shook hands and wished each other good
morning, the Queen watching this scene with ob-
vious delight.
By the time luncheon was announced, I felt com-
pletely at ease. Fortunately I was able to answer the
Queen's very relevant questions about the political
situation in South Africa, Japan and China. The
British Empire had a right to be justly proud of
that remarkable woman: sitting at her desk in Lon-
don, she followed at close range the changing con-
ditions in far-away countries, her brief remarks dis-
THE ART OF RIDING THE STORM
closing sharpness o analysis and shrewdness o judg-
ment.
Two days later I was invited to attend the Royal
family dinner, and from that time on, for the follow-
ing twelve years, the Queen continued to favor me
with her friendship, our meetings taking place in the
Hotel Cimiez in Nice where she was in the habit of
staying each spring.
No Windsor, setting his course by the star of
Queen Victoria and adjusting it in accordance with
the "chart" drawn by King Edward VII, could
possibly go wrong.
King Edward VII "Uncle Bertie" to me and
mine, and the father of the man whose train was
approaching London and who was preparing to
make what could be considered the most important
decision in the history of modern England.
No sovereign and no prime-minister ever ap-
proached King Edward VII in quality of statesman-
ship and none surpassed him in clearness of thought.
Round, jovial, possessing the gift of fascinating
speech and suggesting in appearance a conventional
dandy of the early go's, he went around Europe
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
turning England's former foes into friends and sup-
porters. He "beat" his garrulous nephew Willy to
a treaty with Russia, thus settling the perennial
British-Russian strife and sticking a knife in the back
of the German armies. He fully realized the
potential financial power of the French, a nation
which never spends but always saves, and he be-
came the most Parisian of all Parisians, feeling that
such was the best way of gaining the hearts of the
sceptical Latins. Had the present British Govern-
ment followed King Edward's tradition of "flatter-
ing the French into working for the English," there
would have been no danger of the French Govern-
ment refusing to grant the Bank of England an
additional loan and of the French bankers raiding
the pound.
He was the first Britisher to preach the spectacular
future of America, a prediction based by him on
the impressions gathered in the course of his sup-
posedly "holiday tour" through the United States in
the 6o's. Each summer, while playing golf with
prominent New York and Chicago financiers on the
links of Carlsbad, King Edward VII used to find
out more about the Transatlantic policies and
prejudices than could ever be learned by a dozen
ambassadors spending their lifetime in Washing-
[194]
THE ART OF RIDING THE STORM
ton. He became an out-and-out pro- American in the
days when the visiting citizens of that nation were
still being referred to as "those impossible colonials"
by the haughty members of the smart social set of
London.
It was quite natural that King George V should
inherit his father's Americanomania, How could the
United States have taken the British side during the
world conflict had it not been for certain very private
talks which the King had in 1915-1916 with Mr.
Walter Page, the American Ambassador in London.
"There is today one hypocrite less in London,"
George V said to Mr. Page on learning that President
Wilson had signed the declaration of war.
"What do you mean, Your Majesty," asked Page,
pretending to be surprised by this strange Royal
greeting.
"You know what I mean, Mr. Ambassador, and
I knew all the time that you personally were on our
side from the very beginning."
Pro-American, pro-French, pro-Russian, pro-
Italian! It seems that the Windsors were practicing
the League of Nations virtues without learning its
pompous covenant and without participating in the
notorious endless conferences of the world's sixty-
four war-crazed countries. One hundred per cent
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
Britishers, they were never little Englanders, Heaven
be praised. Everyone in their family, including
King George V and the present Prince of Wales,
was invariably capable of sympathizing with the
other nations. To be sure, the Prince of Wales re-
sembles King Edward VII while the King takes after
his grandmother, but both are made of the same ma-
terial and their love for Good Old England never
interferes with their understanding of changing con-
ditions.
MOST of those musings and recollections belong to
the past. The past could have interested the London-
bound King George V only insofar as it abounds in
object lessons.
There were the present and the future to be con-
sidered. His thirty newspapers talked a lot about
the necessity of cutting down the budget and intro-
ducing a rigid all-round economy. That was fine.
He was ready to be the first to show the example.
Both he and the Prince of Wales were going to
voluntarily accept considerable reductions in the
"civil list" granted to them by Parliament, although
nobody, not even the most rabid foe of the Royal
Family, could ever have accused them of prodigality.
THE ART OF RIDING THE STORM
Long before the advent of the World Crisis, the
King, the Queen and their four sons had reduced
their expenses to a minimum. The King's racing
stable cut to a small fraction of what it was in the
days of Edward VII and his yachting activities con-
ducted on a scale far from befitting the premier
yachtsman of the world, he spent the biggest part of
his "civil list" in ever-increasing contributions to
the various charities. Foreigners would be surprised
and shocked to learn that even the secretarial depart-
ment of the Court had felt the repercussion of a
policy of financial retrenchment: every member of
the Royal Family, including the King, writes his
letters in long-hand, and there is no doubt that an
average Park Avenue dowager or a Detroit auto-
mobile manufacturer employs a much greater num-
ber of private secretaries than Buckingham Palace
does. As to the four Royal Princes, it is an open
secret among their friends that the youngest of the
boys had to wait for the day of his coming of age
before being able to afford a new set of curtains in
his drawing room.
Economizing and keeping a strict check on ex-
penses had been the regime of the Royal Family
since the day of the declaration of war. If further
sacrifices had become necessary, the King was pre-
097]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
pared to cut his allowance from the State by still
another fifty thousand pounds. Obviously, however,
this was not sufficient for the salvation of the pound,
even if the Government executives and employees
should consent to imitate the example of their
sovereign. Something besides rigid national econo-
mizing had helped Great Britain assume her spec-
tacular place in the sun, and that something
else was sadly lacking at the present moment. Na-
tional Solidarity. The willingness of the statesmen
and politicians to put the country above their
parties, to join efforts, and to work together disre-
garding probable resentment and an inevitable
defeat of personal ambitions.
The King knew that nothing short of a Sacred
Union of all classes and parties could pull the
country away from the brink of the precipice, and
he must have found comfort in the realization that
he would preach only what he himself had practiced
when demanding sacrifices and fighting his min-
isters 5 egotism. In no way did he try in 1917 to in-
fluence his Government to intercede with the Rus-
sian revolutionaries on behalf of his imprisoned
cousin Emperor Nicholas II. Although extremely
fond of Nicky, he recognized that such a step would
be likely to jeopardize the relations between the two
THE ART OF RIDING THE STORM
countries. So he kept this feeling in check and suf-
fered in silence. In that same year of 1917 he even
let his elder son, the Prince of Wales, join the rank
and file of the fighting armies in France, thinking
always of England and never of himself and his
family.
Not that he wanted to be praised for his un-
selfish actions. Far from it. But he saw no reason
why the others, the ministers, the politicians and the
bankers, could not afford to do that which he had
done as a matter of course.
Coming to London for a "final talk" with the
three leaders, he was facing a battle, a doubly diffi-
cult battle, because while speaking in the presence
of their King each one of the three powerful states-
men was likely to overemphasize the obstacles put
in the way of the National Union by his political
enemies and to underemphasize the handicaps
created by his own party.
Had Edward VII been placed in George V's posi-
tion, he would, no doubt, have endeavored to outwit
the great wits and outpoint the formidable scorers of
points. Fortunately or unfortunately, King George V
had not inherited his father's fencing talents; only
his loyalty to the nation. That being the case, he
was going to talk to the three gentlemen not in the
1*99}
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
inimitably brilliant manner of the creator of the
Anglo-Franco-Russian Alliance, but in the blunt
fashion of a former sailor accustomed to hear and
use plain language. "God damn the soul of the
Kaiser!", he exclaimed in 1918, in the course of a
conversation with General Pershing, thus summariz-
ing the attitude of the large masses of British soldiers
and civilians. After all, black was black and white
was certain to remain white, even in a Royal Palace,
even when confronted by the glittering lights of
eloquence and the fireworks of the three great
leaders' generalship.
What was he to do, on the other hand, should
Messrs MacDonald, Baldwin and Samuel meet his
proposal to form a Government of National Union
with a flat "no"?
Being a cautious Britisher, he surely must have
weighed the possibility of getting a negative answer.
Continuing to think along the straight lines of a
man aware of his duty, he could have reached but
one conclusion: the "no" of the three leaders would
have necessitated his acting forcefully and promptly.
An enemy of melodrama and a great believer in the
Constitution, he would have indignantly rejected
any possible offer of forming a committee invested
with dictatorial powers. A Windsor never breaks his
[200]
Brown Brothers photo
A KING AT SIXTY-SIX. H,M. KING GEORGE V OF ENGLAND,
THE ART OF RIDING THE STORM
oath. He swore to rule in accordance with the de-
cisions o Parliament, and the vogue of half-Napo-
leonic, half-Fascist ideas sweeping England at that
moment left him entirely cold.
There is just one possibility open for a loyal con-
stitutional King when his Ministers decide upon
what looks to him to be a road of inevitable peril:
he can advise the country that while still eager to
serve its best interests, he can not and does not wish
to remain at the wheel, if the latter is to be swung
by a hysterical crew in the direction of certain
disaster.
In other words, a loyal constitutional King quits
at the moment when, having exhausted all efforts
in an endeavor to save his country, he realizes that
his desire to act according to the spirit of the
Constitution has encountered the stone wall of argu-
ments advanced by the political leaders who prefer
to stick to its letter. In a measure his position
could be compared to that of a conscientious chair-
man of a mammoth concern who prefers to notify
its stockholders of his resignation rather than to
cover with his authority some particularly reckless
decision of its board of directors.
[201]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
8
BUT to return to facts:
It is a matter of historical record that on August
sgrd, 1931, the King "saved the day" by hurriedly
returning from his vacation to the capital where the
leaders of the three great political parties of Great
Britain were hopelessly deadlocked in their en-
deavors to reconcile their common loyalty to the
country with their widely divergent platforms. So
utterly erroneous was the public's idea as to what
the King could and should do that the news of the
mad all-night rush, made by the royal train from
Balmoral to London, came in the nature of a revela-
tion to many otherwise well-informed persons.
Nobody needed to witness the conference between
the King and Messrs MacDonald, Baldwin and
Samuel to realize that the sovereign who came to
demand the immediate formation of a Cabinet of
National Union and the pleasant middle-aged gen-
tleman who each spring accepted the curtsies of the
American debutantes proved to be total and abso-
lute strangers. Were the King to follow the consti-
tutional interpretations of those writers who insist
that "the Kings of England reign but never rule,"
[202]
THE ART OF RIDING THE STORM
he would have stayed at his castle in Balmoral
awaiting the moment when the political leaders
would have finally straightened out their differences
and agreed upon a decision to be confirmed by him.
As it happened, the King preferred to act as he had
always done before: in accordance with his own con-
ception of the responsibilities of his "job" and the
limitations of his prerogatives.
"Time never runs against the King," proclaims
the classical phrase, but, in truth, "time" can change
its habits instantaneously and swiftly if the tenant
of Buckingham Palace does not constantly watch
the political developments and does not possess the
knack to choose the right moment to step in. Noth-
ing in the whole career of a modern King of
England is more difficult and more nerve-wracking
than this vital necessity to combine the shrewdness
and the cunning of an experienced parliamentarian
with the impartial and aloof attitude of a constitu-
tional monarch. Speaking plainly, it amounts to
this: a sovereign whose voice is never heard by his
subjects, except on such solemn occasions as the
opening of Parliament or the inauguration of a
hospital, must be as eloquent and persuasive in deal-
ing with his ministers as the most celebrated of
Great Britain's statesmen and orators; a man whose
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
entire time is being taken up by his innumerable
social duties must develop a sixth sense, a veritable
set of antennae, permitting him to feel the ever-
changing pulse of the country while amiably smil-
ing at Court receptions and garden parties.
The people say: "the King of England is able to
continue in office in spite of all troubles and revolu-
tions shaking the world simply because he obeys the
decisions of his government and never attempts to
dictate them."
The people seem to forget that when dealing with
a Cabinet made up of representatives of one party,
the King can never overlook the "law of cycles"
governing politics: a party often outlives its popular
appeal long before its leader ceases to be Prime Min-
ister of Great Britain, and the King would lose his
"popularity" in no time and would show himself a
mere amateur tight-rope walker, indeed, should he
acquiesce placidly and meekly in each and every
plan of the political combination in power.
The last twenty years in the history of Great
Britain provide numerous proofs of the discreet
leadership exercised by its King. His dramatic re-
turn to London on the morning of August 2grd,
1931, though containing all elements of a tense cli-
max, should in no way be considered tantamount to
THE ART OF RIDING THE STORM
the birth of a "new" George V. Long before the
World Crisis did away with venerable traditions and
precedents, the King had on three important occa-
sions demonstrated the efficiency of his "antennae."
In the troublesome days of the Irish unrest he had
put his foot down and demanded of his hesitating
ministers an immediate settlement of that thorny
problem of the Empire. In the dark months of 1916,
when it had become clear to him that Lloyd George
had grown up to be the symbol of victory in the
minds of the alarmed Britishers, he was the one who
insisted on the creation of the Coalition War Cab-
inet of the brilliant Welshman. And finally, in the
spring of 1923, faced with the necessity of appoint-
ing a successor to the ailing Andrew Bonar Law, he
scored a master-stroke of political strategy: ignoring
the clearly indicated candidacy of Lord Curzon, he
summoned Stanley Baldwin to Buckingham Palace,
thus expressing his sympathy with the prevailing
mood of the country which clamored for a sober
business man and minced no words in denouncing
the old-school diplomats.
All fanciful "ifs" of history are cursed with ste-
rility. It would be idle speculation to try to guess
whether the British Empire would have followed
a different course if Queen Victoria or King
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
Edward VII had been handling the manifold tasks
which confronted King George V. To one who
knew all three of them well and intimately it seems
as though the chief asset of the present British sov-
ereign consists in his having solved a great puzzle
which had remained a perennial mystery both to
his grandmother and father. He discovered the way
of reading the thoughts of that Great Britain which
is lying outside of the Houses of Parliament, and this
intuition, so rarely, if ever, to be found in a royal
palace, overcomes the partisanship of the ministers
much more effectively than those venomous letters
which Queen Victoria used to address to the stub-
born Mr. Gladstone or those celebrated and sting-
ing witticisms dropped around the drawing rooms of
Mayfair by King Edward VII.
Among the various comments brought forth by
the overwhelming triumph of the Cabinet of
National Union in the elections of October 2 8th,
1931, one was missing rather conspicuously: the edi-
torial writers failed to note that the victory of the
MacDonald-Baldwin-Samuel block proved, first of
all, the political acumen of King George V who had
foreseen it nine weeks in advance. This ability to
tune his mind in harmony with the masses is some-
thing which his immediate predecessors on the
[206]
THE ART OF RIDING THE STORM
throne did not possess. His grandmother believed
her prerogatives protected by the Almighty. His
father never doubted the ultimate doom of the
monarchistic regime. King George V, with all due
respect to their memories, prefers not to disturb
the Supreme Being or anticipate the future, but sets
the course of the House of Windsor by that fugitive
star known as "Majority/' Not the majority that sits
in Westminster but the majority that lives and
laughs and struggles and fights its daily battles
throughout the length and width of the British
Isles.
It is extremely characteristic of the utter abandon
of the public trend of mind that while a detailed
and highly colored account of a few minutes spent
by the Prince of Wales in a Whitechapel "pub" is
being cabled to the four corners of the world and
offered in explanation of the stability of the throne
of the Windsors, no correspondent seems to notice
that a much more significant, almost revolutionary,
change in the relations between People and Crown
has occurred in the course of King George V's reign.
As recently as twenty-four years ago, the nation re-
lied upon the Government and Parliament to guard
its inalienable rights against any possible infringe-
ment by the sovereign. When the then youthful
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
Lloyd George was denouncing the interference of
the "reactionary" House of Lords, he made no
bones of the fact that he expected to find King
Edward VII on the side of what in the United
States would be termed "special privileges and
vested interests/' Today, the stauch leaders of
the laborites publicly pay compliments to King
George V for His Majesty's protection of their cause
against the excessive demands of the conservatives,
and the masses are viewing Buckingham Palace as
the residence of their deputy-at-large representing
that vast and heterogeneous constituency known as
the British Empire. This entirely new popular atti-
tude, product and result of the sustained statesman-
ship of the Crown, would be sufficient in itself to
provide an impressive safeguard for the throne were
it not for one danger: the nights of Great Britain
are dark and foggy, and it takes the piercing eye of
a rugged navigator to locate the guiding star! Pos-
sibly because of his long service in the navy, King
George V encounters no difficulties in finding the
nebulous "Majority," but it remains to be seen
whether his successors will inherit this particular
talent of the present "Defender of the Faith." I, for
one, would venture no prediction as to the probable
longevity of the monarchistic regime in England
THE ART OF RIDING THE STORM
nor in any other European country for that matter;
no one could without a thorough knowledge of the
essential characteristics of the coming generation of
sovereigns involved.
"I hope to God that there is no foundation to the
rumors which have it that the Prince of Wales may
refuse to ascend the throne when his turn comes/*
said to me an important British statesman known
for his radical leanings, "that would be really tragic.
It would be certain to precipitate the gravest
national crisis."
The gentleman may have underestimated the
capability of the younger brothers of the Prince of
Wales and may have paid too much attention to
idle gossip, but the point he raised was indisput-
able: the chances for the survival of an outmoded
regime depend solely on the personal ability of its
titular leader, and the mere readiness to obey the
Constitution would never suffice to keep a King on
his throne in the dynamite-charged atmosphere of
after-war Europe. Sometimeswitness the case of
Yugoslavia an open challenge to Parliament and
a bold suspension of all constitutional guarantees
appeal to the masses much more and better succeed
in nipping an embryo revolution in the bud.
It is a far cry from London to Belgrade. An in-
[209]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
vestigator would do well to first visit the more
"enlightened" capitals of Europe. The logical itin-
erary makes Brussels his next stop.
ASIDE from secondary details, the constitutions of
Belgium, Holland and the three Scandinavian King-
doms were largely patterned after the English
model. An expert would be sure to frown at this
statement and quote numerous differences, such as
certain legislative rights vested in the King of Swe-
den, the non-existence of the royal power to dis-
solve Parliament in Norway, the wide executive
prerogatives of the Queen of Holland, the intrica-
cies of the mechanism of the royal veto in Denmark
and the absence of the so-called "suspension-clause"
in Belgium, but the fact remains that the authors
of all five constitutions were inspired by the typi-
cally British idea of demoting the monarch to the
position of glorified spectator.
It is not unusual for imitators to improve upon
their prototype, and were it not for the similarity
in title there would be nothing left today to permit
us to classify the crowned heads of Belgium, Hol-
land, Denmark, Sweden and Norway as members of
[210]*
THE ART OF RIDING THE STORM
King George V's profession. The arbiter and su-
preme judge o the disputes between the govern-
ment and the opposition, he stands above but never
out of politics, while theirs is a purely decorative
office closely resembling that of the President of
the Republic of France, just as far removed from
active participation in the running of the State and
just as much of a pompous misnomer. According
to the constitutions of their countries they are
allowed a greater latitude of initiative than King
George V, but their keen understanding of the radi-
cal spirit of their nations makes them look toward
Paris rather than toward London for inspiration,
and prompts them to behave in exactly the same
manner the nominal head of the Gallic Repub-
lic does. The students of modern history will recall
that Alexandre Millerand, the only President of
France who attempted to exercise the rights of initi-
ative given to him by the constitution, was forced to
resign three years before the expiration of his term
just because of that attempt. Unlike the Americans
who measure the greatness of their Chief Executives
by a Rooseveltian yardstick, the majority of the
Frenchmen maintain that only an affable person,
thoroughly prepared to remain a mere figurehead,
should be permitted to occupy the Elyse Palace.
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
The statesmen of Brussels, the Hague, Stockholm,
Oslo and Copenhagen endorse this somewhat vul-
nerable point o view most heartily; they gauge the
"goodness" of the ruler by his willingness to let the
prerogatives of the Crown become a vague symbol
of the past.
"You are quite alright. We are satisfied with
you," said Anseele, the old leader of the Flemish
Labor Party, at the conclusion of an audience with
King Albert I, and the Belgian sovereign acknowl-
edged this homely compliment half blushingly, half
gratefully. A remark of that sort would have been
certain to incense his late uncle, King Leopold II,
although even that confirmed stickler on royal eti-
quette entertained but small illusions as to the
future of monarchism. Whenever talking of the
growth of republican ideas in Europe, he used to
add wistfully: "For myself I am not worried in the
least. I have a nephew who is a socialist. . . . With
him on the Throne my country will be just a heredi-
tary republic!"
A socialist nephew succeeding to an autocratic
uncle! This seems to be a complete summary of
what took place in all the other Kingdoms of occi-
dental and northern Europe. King Christian X of
Denmark and King Haakon VII of Norway (known
THE ART OF RIDING THE STORM
as Prince Charles o Denmark before his coronation
in 1909) broke away from the regal ideas of their
grandfather King Christian IX in no less resolute a
way than King Albert I of Belgium, and an equally
wide gulf, both mental and emotional, separates
King Gustav-Adolph V of Sweden and Queen Wil-
helmina of Holland from their predecessors on the
thrones. For one thing, no plainer "folk" ever in-
habited the historical palaces of Europe. Hollywood
directors, accustomed to think of their royalty in
terms of ermine and pearls, if given an opportu-
nity to spend a week-end with the family of reign-
ing Bernadottes or Glucksburgs would be greatly
shocked: they would find these tall healthy men and
women dressed in an unobtrusive manner border-
ing on poverty, eating the simplest kind of food
and discussing subjects that would be considered
distinctly "middle-class" in the mansions of Long
Island and Newport. It may amuse the Park Avenue
hostesses to learn that the Belgians usually credit
the democratic attitude of their ruler to the benefi-
cent American influence: he stayed for a while in
the United States, in the late go's, studying the rail-
road business under the tutelage of James J. Hill.
Unfortunately, neither Uncle Sam nor Mr. Hill can
be held responsible for the policies of the other four
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
"democratic" sovereigns. Guided by a natural de-
sire to maintain internal peace and always remem-
bering the bitter experience of their Russian, Ger-
man and Austrian relatives, all five of them are
reconciled to leading the existence of crowned presi-
dents.
In the game of political give-and-take they are to
be found, when at all, invariably on the giving end,
gradually divesting themselves of the few remain*
ing vestiges of the prerogatives of their forebears.
Queen Wilhelmina proclaiming immediately after
the fall of the Central European Empires that her
desire is "to see the necessary reforms promised by
the Crown accomplished with the rapidity befitting
the social rhythm of our times." King Gustav-
Adolph V meeting an identical emergency with a
readiness which made the leading radical newspaper
of Sweden say, "our dream has been achieved; our
people have finally become the supreme masters of
their destiny." King Albert I reminding a zealous
delegation of ultra-royalists that "Parliament alone
can and must decide." So similar are the defensive
methods of these sovereigns that even the humor
of the anecdotes built up around their "democratic
demeanor" reveals exactly the same trend. As a rule,
the cream of the jest is provided by the "plain-
Wide World photo
THE HAPPY PRINCE.
THE ART OF RIDING THE STORM
spoken American." That justly celebrated remark
presumably addressed to the Queen of the Belgians
by the wife of a high New York City official in
answer to the royal appreciation of the skyline,
"You said a mouthful, Queenie," finds its Swedish
counterpart in a tale laid in Monte-Carlo and deal-
ing with King Gustav-Adolph V, a famous Ameri-
can millionaire (sometimes described as my old
friend Charles M. Schwab) and the latter *s Swedish
valet. Said the U. S. tycoon to the King, pointing
to his servant, "I want you to meet my Eric, King.
He is a Swede, too."
Both stories are great favorites with their Belgian
and Swedish Majesties, who would not swap them
even for that blue ribbon entry of the Buckingham
Palace collection of anecdotes which describes a
gentleman from Iowa as stepping out of the crowd
at the Wimbledon Exposition and asking King
George V to "shake hands with the son."
10
GRANTING the efficiency of the modern "royal de-
fense," I must admit, however, that the best-laid
plans of the Kings would have long since gone awry
had it not been for the unwillingness of their peo-
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
pies to run the risks accompanying the initial steps
of every new-born republic. The object lesson pro-
vided by the three fallen Empires has impressed the
man-in-the-street not less than the man-on-the-
throne. The latter shuddered and felt uneasy, but
the former was equally frightened, the example of
Russia where the storm once unchained had re-
fused to limit its destructive fury to the Imperial
Palaces only being rather discouraging to a believer
in democracy.
"A campaign against our Royal Family would
never meet with popular approval." I constantly
hear this hackneyed phrase which conveys no mean-
ing other than that the devil we know remains much
better than the devil we don't know, and that it is
much easier for the politicians to handle a King
than to chance the appearance of a Hitler or a
Trotzky. If any additional proof of this axiom is
required, Italy is the country to furnish it.
What makes Mussolini tolerate the existence of
the Italian Crown? No pilgrim to Rome has as yet
dared to ask II Duce this logical question, and the
Encyclopaedia Britannica continues to claim, even in
its last and newest edition, that "Italy is a constitu-
tional monarchy in which the executive power
belongs exclusively to the sovereign." To quote one
THE ART OF RIDING THE STORM
of my reigning relatives: "It is a good thing that
the members of our profession are still able to count
on the support of the editors of the Britannica!"
In the estimation of the persons who are directly
interested in the continuation of the pro-royal atti-
tude of the Fascist!, Mussolini is influenced both by
his fear of offending the shadow of the Liberator of
Italy, King Victor-Emmanuel II, and by his uncon-
scious imitation of the ideas incorporated in the
Soviet Constitution. Just as the existence of the
so-called "President" Kalinin reminds the citizens
of the U. S. S. R. that theirs is, after all, a Republic
an accomplishment of the dream of three genera-
tions of Russians the presence of King Victor-
Emmauuel III symbolizes for the Italian nation the
everlasting Garibaldian* idea of an United Italy.
Brothers under the skin, the Communists and the
Fascisti both put their official rulers in a position of
similar impotence. Kalinin could no more resist the
decisions of Stalin than the King of Italy could veto
the bills introduced by Mussolini. The "President"
of the U. S. S. R., himself an old communist, natur-
ally rejoices in the power of his party; Victor-
Emmanuel III, a descendant of the proud House
of Savoy, merely bows to the inevitable, having
accepted Fascism as the only way out of anarchy.
217]
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
Not much need be said about the defensive
methods of the King of Italy. His is an attitude of
silence and of "hoping for the best/' Because the
fate of his royal cousin of Spain has proved that a
monarch has to pay for the mistakes of a dictator,
even if no particular love is lost between the two,
Victor-Emmanuel III realizes that the often-asked
question after Mussolini what? likewise affects the
destinies of the reigning dynasty. When a country
is threatened by revolution, a monarch should either
unreservedly accept the "man-on-the-white-horse"
or dare invest himself with dictatorial powers. The
latter course, unattainable in the case of Italy, has
often been tried, with a moderate degree of success,
by the Graustark rulers of the Balkanic Kingdoms.
11
ON the warm and clear morning of April i4th,
19^5, an open car of American make was slowly
proceeding along the badly paved highway leading
toward the capital of Bulgaria. The man at the
wheel, a slender, pale-faced, dark-haired youth,
breathed deeply of the fragrance of the spring air,
while his two passengers, one dressed in the uniform
of a chauffeur and the other suggesting an elderly
professor, sat in the rear, silent and half-asleep.
THE ART OF RIDING THE STORM
Approaching a group of trees at a turn of the
road, the young man thought he heard the sound
of subdued human voices and glanced around ques-
tioningly. Almost simultaneously, the crack of a rifle
sounded, followed by a real salvo. In the small mir-
ror in front of him he saw his two passengers sink
to the floor. He applied the brakes, vaulted out of
the car and made for the nearby village. The bul-
lets whizzing in his ears helped increase his speed
and he ran for dear life.
Less than a mile from the place where he started
he bumped into a heavy bus parked in the middle
of the highway, with its chauffeur and passengers
eating their lunch on the grass. His appearance cre-
ated a storm of excitement. They glared at him as
though he were a ghost. Before anyone could ask
him a question he jumped into the bus, turned it
around and was off.
The chauffeur and the passengers looked at each
other. Could it be possible that they had really wit-
nessed the incredible spectacle of King Boris III of
Bulgaria stealing a bus?
The rest of this story should gladden the hearts
of the veterans of the American frontier. There
was a posse of soldiers and peasants who searched
through the woods all day and all night long,
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
guided by their pale-faced King. More shots were
exchanged, although no culprits caught.
"This incident is bound to make the King still
more popular with his subjects/' cabled the Amer-
ican correspondents in Sophia, but the hero him-
self thought differently. He feared that a human life
is too precious to be risked for the sake of popu-
larity and doubted whether such counterfeit plea-
sures should be paid for in genuine coin.
At this particular phase of the continuous Bal-
kanic drama the curtain falls to denote the passing
of three years. When it goes up again, on June 20th,
1928, the scene represents the solemn hall of the
Yugoslavian Parliament. More shots are being
heard: a deputy enraged by the stubbornness of his
Croatian colleagues brandishes a gun and silences
five of them.
Such are the Balkans. The danger spot of the
world and the most unhealthy climate for a King
to live in. Obviously, the British methods of up-i
holding the popularity of the monarchistic regimdc
would prove a dismal failure in the countries whercr.
a King gets ambushed on the highway and whei
parliamentary disputes are settled with the aid JPI*
a .45 Colt. ?
As King Alexander I of Yugoslavia expresses it
THE ART OF RIDING THE STORM
in his frank fashion: "I prefer to be called a tyrant
in France and elsewhere than allow to continue in
my country such political customs as would lead it
toward chaos and dismemberment."
The word "allow" is being used by King Alex-
ander I not in its Buckingham Palace sense, but
in a way the snipers can appreciate. For King
George V not to "allow" a measure detrimental to
the welfare of his country means to make an appeal
to the patriotic spirit of the leaders of the three
great political parties. In the case of King Alex-
ander I it signifies his decision to suspend the con-
stitutional guarantees, a measure recurred to by him
in January, 1929, and partly revoked since then.
"I admit/' he says, "that it may be necessary to
consult the leaders of the nation and I believe that
the new Parliament which has just been elected
understands that. But what is still inadmissible and
will always remain inadmissible is that the political
nachinations of a single party or a local interest
should be allowed to work against the good of the
Mtion."
His reference to the "local interest" should strike
JF ympathetic chord in the heart of King Carol II
6t Rumania. The generosity displayed by the Allies
in Versailles toward their Balkanic supporters has
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TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
made the position of these two young rulers ex-
tremely difficult. In 1919 it seemed quite nice to be
able to put under their respective sceptres millions
o brand-new subjects and miles upon miles of addi-
tional land. In 1932 they find it very nearly impos-
sible to prevent a clash between their pre-war na-
tionals and the strangers allotted to them by Georges
Clemenceau. What King Alexander I terms "the
political machinations of a local interest" represent
in reality an imposing sum of grievances bred by an
array of religious, racial and national differences.
Of all professions the royal one should be the last
to borrow troubles, and I am appalled to think of
the lightheartedness with which the rulers of Yugo-
slavia and Rumania have accepted the explosive
gifts of the Allies. Not only did their "great con-
quests" jeopardize the stability of their thrones that
could be considered rather a minor tragedy from the
point of view of humanity at large but the selfsame
conquests made another European war well-nigh
unavoidable. No suspension of constitutional guar-
antees can succeed in vanquishing the animosities
of millions of Hungarians, Croats, Russians and
others who were "sold down the river" by the Allies,
and no degree of "personal popularity" will protect
a King in case of another fratricidal slaughter.
THE ART OF RIDING THE STORM
I WISH I could persuade my friend Ras-Tafari, the
present Emperor of Abyssinia, to pay a visit to the
European sovereigns and preach to them his ser-
mon on the subject of Wars and Kings.
"What were you Europeans fighting for in 1914-
1918?" he asked me when I saw him last in 1925 in
Addis-Ababa.
I explained as well as I could.
"I know all of that/' he said impatiently, "but I
can not understand why any Emperor or King
should declare war unless his own country had been
invaded by the enemy. Didn't they know, those rela-
tives of yours, that they would be sure to lose their
thrones in case of defeat? You ask my Secretary of
State what we think of war here in Abyssinia."
The Secretary of State spared no words in de-
scribing how little they thought of war in Abyssinia.
While talking in the presence of Ras-Tafari and the
Dowager-Empress, this elderly statesman had to
keep a handkerchief in front of his face so as to
prevent his "unclean breath" from offending the
sovereign.
Abyssinia, I thought, was, no doubt, the cleverest
TWILIGHT OF ROYALTY
country in the world. It did seem odd, though, that
I had had to travel all the way to Africa to find the
last Mohican of that majestic profession of Absolute
Rulers which is no more. The Kaiser himself could
not have improved upon the handkerchief idea.
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